Fated Origins
by xMusicallyAd3ptx
Summary: In a small town in northern England, a boy with great magical powers is born. Not to be threatened, Lord Voldemort attempts to dispose of the boy with an ancient, evil magic. Many years later, the boy returns as Darth Cadmus, the feared Dark Lord of the Sith. Unaware of his wizarding ties, how will Cadmus choose to affect the Wizarding World? Rated M. Chapter 12 rewritten.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Fated Origins: Chapter 1: Prologue 

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of either of these creations. All rights go to JKR and George Lucas. This is non-profit in every sense.

**Warnings: **This will be somewhat of a Dark fic. There will be character deaths, of both good and evil, and vivid descriptions of said deaths. Also, many distateful and or questionable matters will make appearances, such as but not limited to: forced servitude, torture, rape, exploitation, abuse and so on. As for consensual sexual situations, I'm not sure yet, though there is a definite possibility.

**A/N: **To begin, I would like to thank Darth Marrs for his amazing fic: Broken Chains. It provided me with profound inspiration for this story, and some of his brilliant phrasing will be basis for some descriptions here.

I am really unsure of any romantic pairing as of now, because I am depending upon feedback on the first few chapters as to whether or not I'll even continue it.

This will be set during the end of OOTP, or around that time. 19 BBY for SW. It will contain both Universes, HP in present, SW in past.

Enjoy!

July 15, 1943-Little Hangleton, northern England

_The night air was acrimoniously cold. Too cold. The frostiness in the atmosphere of Little Hangleton was foreboding in its oddness. Tom Riddle, Sr. paced in front of his dining room table, the space lit only by dim candlelight. Portraits and objects of fine gold stood in prominent places, the finer delights of rich folk. Empty bottles and rubbish lay discarded about the room's floor, forgotten. It was a habit of the elder Riddle to pace while in deep rumination, and furthermore, it was an understatement to say 'he had a lot on his mind'._

_The reason for his late-night reverie was on account of the fact that he was, in his own words, "in a load of shite". His drunken associations with a certain Lucretia Black, who was apparently related to some important 'magical' family, had cost him dearly, in the unexpected form of a son. Aristarchus Riddle-Black. Born only a week earlier. A bastard child. Yet, Riddle, Sr. did not blame himself for his actions. He was too haughty for self-responsibility; in his own mind, there was no other option but to return the beautiful girl's sentiments for him, even after the death of his previous wife, Merope Gaunt, left him a widower. Neither did it bother him that she was a witch, similarly to Merope, and there was a very good chance son his was 'magical' as well. 'Well, at least he will have something in common with Tom…' he thought._

_Lucretia had offered to take full custody of the infant (she refused marriage), but Tom had declined. He did not want to lose another child. Instead, he took Aristarchus to his manor in Little Hangleton, and decided that he would raise the boy himself, putting aside the facts that he was completely incompetent and a single father. Now, this was where the 'load of shite' came into play for a second time. After only three days of possessing and caring for his newfound son, he had come to his own conclusion that he was unqualified and in need of dire assistance. And so here he was, pacing his dining room, trying vainly to settle on a solution._

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Tom paused his pacing. Someone at his door, at this hour of the night? Must be another inebriated neighbor, asking him to come join some idiotic party. Tom sighed in irritation, proceeding out of his dining room and down the hall to his front door. He peered out a small side window next to the entrance._

_A gasp released involuntarily from his throat._

_It was a younger version of himself, staring into his own eyes. Tom. His son. _

_Tom Riddle, Sr., throwing caution to the wind, opened the door._

_"Son? Tom?" he inquired, his voice tinged with both joy and uncertainty._

_The Riddle son's facial expression did not alter from its state of somberness. His mouth opened, and he drawled a greeting, filled with undisguised hate._

_"Hello…father."_

_In the flash of the eye, the man known as Voldemort withdrew his wand and shouted a word unintelligible to his father. But the indecipherable word held deed. Tom Riddle, Sr. was blown off his feet and thrown violently down a corridor behind him. He slammed into a wall with enough force that it left a sizable indentation and slid down, crumpling upon impact with the floor. An exquisite chandelier fell from the ceiling, shattering on impact a foot before the downed man._

_Voldemort ambled languidly to where his father lay._

_"I'm so sorry I had to greet you like this, father," he said sardonically. "But, the time has come for retribution for your abandonment of mother and me."_

_"Son, wait! You don't have to do this!" pled Riddle, Sr. In some corner of his mind, there was a fragment of hope that this man before him, his own son, would be rational enough not to murder the man that conceived him._

_Voldemort raised his wand and continued, voice grossly calm. "I'm afraid I do. Do not prolong your beseeching; no words can save you, father. Do not worry, it will be over soon, and you shall then taste the flames of-,"_

_Suddenly, Voldemort's vengeful diatribe was interrupted by a shrill cry. The wail of a child. The noise had emanated from above the two men._

_"What was that, father?" Voldemort asked, voice so sickeningly sweet it was infinitely more frightening that the threat of death pointed at the elder Riddle._

_The Riddle patriarch, unheeding of his injuries in panic, leapt to his feet._

_"NO! YOU WON'T TOUCH-,"_

_Tom Riddle, Sr.'s frenzied shout was unfortunately cut short as a bolt of green light collided with his chest. He instantaneously went limp, and like a ragdoll, slumped to the floor in a heap. _

_And there Voldemort stood, wand still extended, without even the slightest trace of remorse in his warped psyche. He simply gazed at his father's corpse, feeling in some twisted manner that this act of patricide was his reckoning. He felt revoltingly fulfilled, and yet at the same time, bloodthirstily empty. More must pay._

_He was abruptly torn from his victorious reflections as another infantile cry reached his ears. _

_A child? Of his wretched father's? How?_

_He whipped around, striding up the stairs to the first floor, listening for another cry. An additional shriek did come, and Voldemort perceived it originating from a room three doors to the left. With a flick of his demise-dealing wand, the door was flung open, and the darkest wizard the world will ever know stepped into the gaudily-colored room of an innocent infant._

oOoOoOo

19 BBY-Outer Rim

"Master, Lord Vader is requesting that he be allowed admittance to the ship. He states the need to speak with you is urgent."

Darth Cadmus, Dark Lord of the Sith, languidly opened his mediation-heavy eyelids. His pose was traditional, the lotus, performed while hovering a foot off of the ground. He floated in this pensive position at the helm of his flagship, the _Black Dagger_'s, bridge, where often he would reside, gazing out the ship's frontal view-ports, calculating, commanding, and meditating. The last was imperative to his rigorous training.

Attaining the concentration for internal reflection was simple, but he held an extreme distaste for being interrupted. He rotated around in mid-air, coming face to face with the perpetrator. It was Astraea, one of his salacious slave-concubines, whom he was somewhat fond of. If what he felt was even fondness at all…

He stared indifferently at her, orange eyes burning intensely into her own violet ones. Searching her. Her visage managed to remain stalwart.

"Inform him that he may enter."

She bowed low, and turned to depart. He watched her luscious figure retreat, hips swaying in instinctive seductiveness, and smirked slightly. He chose only the most beautiful, the flawless, the immaculate. Nevertheless, he took her, and the rest of his harem, only when the desire became too great. Sexuality was one of the baser intuitions of his humanity, and Cadmus generally abhorred it. However, he did not loathe it for the pleasure or the act: It was a barrier to true mastery of oneself. Some Sith viewed it as a passion, but Cadmus held it as an impulse, an involuntary need to procreate, an inopportune aspect of his humanity. To be in complete control over oneself every instinct and intuition must be dominated, allowed to manifest or to be restricted at one's own whim. Love, hate, lust, fear. Every emotion and sentiment must be brought under rein to function at one's zenith. Subsequent this, they then can be used as tools, and more importantly, weapons.

Cadmus' intensive training had brought him nearly to this state of self-supremacy. Very rarely, his instincts surfaced in brief moments uncontrolled, and Cadmus would punish himself for it. It was the pathway to strength. Pain and suffering were incredibly useful tools, even for use on oneself.

His cogitations returned to the matter Astraea had brought to him. Vader. His co-apprentice under Darth Sidious, the Emperor. They held a mutual dislike for one another, unsurprisingly. The resolution to their apprenticeship was an inevitable and constantly-pressing quandary, for only one would succeed the position. But that issue was left in a gray area, to be determined when the time came. Indubitably, it would end with Vader's or his own death. It was foolish, and merely due to the fact Sidious apparently could not decide upon things with permanence. Furthermore, it was a direct violation of the Rule of Two, permitted indefinitely by Sidious.

Yet, despite this, Cadmus was considerably stronger than his cohort, and it was becoming increasingly evident as he grew in the Force and his powers matured, for he was only a youth of nineteen. Even at nineteen, he was among the most potent the Universe had been witness to.

_Nineteen years it has been. Nineteen years since my discovery…_

Cadmus eradicated the thoughts from his mind. He could not contemplate his past now; it would be detrimental to his meditation period. Deep reflection in pose cultivated his powers and intellect, brought him closer to the Force, and further connected him with the ethereal Darkness. It was necessary that he begin again to maximize the benefits.

Cadmus let his eyelids fall anon. Within his mind, he envisioned everything and nothing at once, the Force, and grasped a hold of this veiled omniscience, melding it. He immersed himself within it, felt the knowledge of a hundred thousand minds commune with his own, sensed the Hand of the Universe upon his psyche; his eyeballs rolled back in his skull…

"Cadmus."

His eyes snapped open. The effervescent aura of the Force and its strengthening passivity departed. Disrupted a second time. Irritation pricked at the base of his consciousness, but he immediately subdued it. He could not relay it in his words to his equal.

Vader stood before him, standing in a firm position. Feet planted solidly, head held purposefully. What he could read of the mechanical man's Force Signature, concealed from years of training, held a sense of determination. The matter _was_ apparently important.

Cadmus did not reply.

Vader ignored this, and continued.

"The Emperor is not pleased. Grievous is dead at the hand of Kenobi on Utapau."

Cadmus felt a twinge of shock, but it vanished within seconds. Grievous was old, and failing from illness, he was no match for a strong Jedi such as Kenobi. All that was left was to appoint a Supreme Commander-replacement…

Cadmus fluidly returned to the floor. He removed himself from the lotus position and stood, drawing himself up to full height, six feet-five inches. Vader was nearly as tall as himself, merely an inch or two short. Both were intimidating, however: Vader with his machinery and history, and Cadmus with his build and gaze. It was said that his stare alone could frighten even an enraged Rancor into fleeing. They stood watching one another, neither moving, before Cadmus spoke.

"Vader, you are not a surreptitious individual. I can effortlessly sense that your 'visit' here was not just to relay unimportant news that I would be informed of sooner or later. Why do you come here and disturb my ship?" he stated the last question as a vexed command, rasplike voice holding a razor edge.

Vader slowly turned around, walking unhurriedly away from him with slow, purposeful steps. His basso vocalizer rang out, echoing in the wide expanse of the ship's bridge.

"Now, Cadmus, I know you are already quite aware of a little predicament we are both involved in…"

_So, it has come to this. C_admus immediately steeled himself, gathering the Force to his nerve endings, barring his psyche.

"…and it must be resolved. And we both know that there is only one way this will come to fruition…

In a whirl of motion, Vader whipped around, crimson lightsaber drawn and held aggressively.

"Your death."

Vader lunged at Cadmus, moving swiftly for his age, swinging the saber of pure energy in a wide, lateral arc, aiming for a clean slice across his abdomen. Cadmus rolled sharply to the left, utilizing the Force as a hammer, knocking Vader's legs out from beneath him. His adversary was ready, however, and did not fall. Cadmus activated his own lightsaber and charged, taking the offensive, slashing diagonally. His blow was immediately parried by Vader, and Cadmus felt a kick land squarely against his inner right knee. He swung in response, a left hook that took Vader by the temple, sending him reeling to the right.

"You're a fool, Vader! You cannot win!"

Pain erupting from his knee area, Cadmus propelled the Force to the fingertips of his left hand and released an acutely concentrated stream of Force Lightning into Vader. It enveloped his enemy, the strands of electrical energy searing his flesh and scorching his nerve endings. Vader was hapless against it, for he could not replicate the lightning through his prosthetics. His enemy howled in pain, his vocalizer cracking as he shrieked into it.

"Stop! Stop the pain! I will… I will negotiate!"

Vader dropped to his knees in agony.

There would be no bargaining. Cadmus took this opportunity, knowing his ameliorate-trained foe's moment of weakness was advantageous. He halted the lightning, sprinted forward, lightsaber raised to decapitate his kneeling enemy-

Vader leapt frenziedly to the right, rolling as he hit the ground. The quantity of pain Vader had felt had been dramatized, and Cadmus had fallen for the act. Vader's long arm flew up and connected mightily with Cadmus' head. He flew underneath it flatly, and landed on his back. His lightsaber skittered away harmless. The blow had been immensely powerful, thoroughly disorienting him. He took a precious second, using the Force to placate the internal vertigo…

Vader's foot slammed down upon his throat.

"Stupid boy!" his adversary shouted. "Did you think you would actually defeat me? I am infinitely more skilled than you!"

Vader increased the pressure on his throat.

Cadmus, in turn, let his constrained rage free.

Vader suddenly felt himself fly backwards with the force of an ionic cannon, sailing like a ragdoll across the bridge. Cadmus trailed him through the air, unbound in the Force, and unleashed a rapid succession of mighty blows with every limb he could use.

When they landed, together, Cadmus stood, breathing heavily after his taxing outburst of anger, while Vader lay as a crumpled, battered pile on the ground. _His age must have caught up with him_. Cadmus reached down, and with a single hand, lifted his nemesis off the ground by the neck.

Cadmus stared heatedly into the dented visor of Vader, and spoke with a voice deadly calm:

"You have made a grave mistake, you robotic fuck."

Vader coughed, still limp in his grip, and spoke, voice burdened with pain.

"No, boy. It is you who has made the mistake."

The nest sequence of events happened in a flash, and yet, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Vader, superior in training and possessing great lengths of endurance, threw Cadmus away with a burst of the Force. Cadmus landed gracelessly, and Vader was immediately on him. Imitating Cadmus' attack, he assailed the younger apprentice with a flurry of Force-driven strikes, so quick Cadmus could not react.

Soon, Cadmus was reduced to a quivering, bloodied pulp. Still, Vader did not stop. He raised his younger enemy into the air, grasping him tightly in the Force, and repeatedly slammed him onto the metal floor of the bridge. Intermittent snaps and cracks of various bones sounded between the collisions, and Vader felt his enemy grow faint.

Vader halted his blows, and dropped his adversary. He looked down at Cadmus, who would no doubt be recovering within moments, and held him down with an immeasurable amount of the Force.

"You do not belong here, Cadmus. I know who you are. You are no Sith. You are a mere boy," he hissed. "Intruding aliens are dealt with accordingly: they are returned to their native realm."

And with that, Darth Vader, one hand trained on Cadmus, turned, and with the other hand, did something that no Force-sensitive individual has been able to duplicate.

He ripped open the fabric of time and space.

Vader turned, strength already failing from the obvious amount of energy required to complete such a feat, and levitated Cadmus haphazardly off of the ground.

Cadmus fought back with his all his damaged might, but Vader expended his entire will with one push and overcame him.

Cadmus, in seemingly slow motion, flew directly toward the glowing rip in space and time. The anomaly seemed like a vacuum, and the air being drawn into it was somehow visible.

And in the mundane blink of the eye, Darth Cadmus entered the portal and disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2: Cosmic Rebirth

Fated Origins: Chapter 2: Cosmic Rebirth

**A/N: **This is mainly a filler chapter, to provide further background.

Enjoy!

July 15, 1943-Little Hangleton-the Riddle Manor

_"Why, hello there, child…"_

_Lord Voldemort, blackest magic incarnate, peered down into the alabaster, tiny crib of a little baby boy. A small, bronze plate was located on the front of the container, reading 'Aristarchus Cygnus Riddle-Black, Born July 8, 1943'._

_"So, Father decided to fornicate with a Black, now did he? At least he had good taste…"_

_The Dark Wizard grinned, a disturbing, toothy smile that would have undoubtedly sent chills through a Dementor. The child simply stared up at him, ice-blue eyes wide with uncertainty. With his wand, Voldemort brusquely prodded the infant, and to his massive astonishment, his wand was ejected from of his hand, as if the diminutive baby had knocked it out without actually moving. _

_Voldemort's anger spiked with the inferno of a solar flare. A child dare disarm the all-powerful Dark Lord? Without further deliberation, he raised his fist high into the air, prepared to crush-_

_'Wait.' _

_Voldemort paused as the severity of what just occurred hit him._

_A child disarmed him. With a non-verbal spell. He had heard of accidental infant magic, but none as potent as this. Voldemort himself did not inadvertently utilize accidental magic until the tender age of one. Whereas this child had completed the feat at only a week old. There was only one conclusion._

_This child possessed equal or greater power than his own._

_Voldemort stepped backwards, jaggedly gifted mind racing. One of a few very rare times, he had been caught off guard, and now was thoroughly perplexed. He felt fear twinge at the base of his skull at this child. Such power…_

_He could kill the boy, but he feared the child's magic might react against his own attack. Possibly a deflecting shield or a reversing spell, though he doubted a mere week-old boy could overcome his own curse. Still, he could take no unnecessary chances…_

_His psyche swiftly perused all options that entered his mind sporadically, not finding a foolproof and suitable selection. _

_Then, the solution hit his mind like a sledgehammer. A Space-Time Dimensional Transportation spell. With such a curse, he could send the child to another Plane of Existence entirely. Hopefully even Limbo. Effectively ridding the world of this infant and its threat on his power. It would require much energy, and the correct incantation, for it was of the darkest of magic…_

_No matter. No expenditure was too great to be divested of this boy. This boy, his own half-brother…_

_No. Family ties meant nothing. The boy was a nuisance, a power mongrel, if not now, he knew he would be in the future. Voldemort looked down at the boy and sneered. Tufts of white-blonde hair were beginning to peek from the child's cranium._

_"We don't even share the correct hair color..." the Dark Wizard said aloud, sounding psychopathically like he was attempting to reason with himself. As if there was some benevolent persona within him, crushed and battered, fighting to reason with the malevolent fiend that encompassed Voldemort..._

_The persona apparently lost. Voldemort raised his wand, closed his partially-crimson eyes, and aimed his wand at a space adjacent the bed. He had remembered the invocation._

_"Fabricae tempore et spatio: aperta!" he cried, the ancient, evil incantation rolling off his tongue like a serrated knife._

_Voldemort himself watched in awe as a dark purple beam emitted from his wand, shooting out and piercing into the very air. Reality, in that concentrated locus, seemed to split, and a massive, gaping tear in the fabric of time and space was left where the spell activated. The Dark Lord took a step back, as he felt the massive pull the anomaly had on matter. Instantaneously, he felt an immense weakness plague his system, the effect of casting such a spell. Blood began to pour from his nostrils, his eyesight grew faint, his limbs felt numb. He turned, and with great, strained force, he managed to kick the crib, once, sending it rolling towards and directly into the space-time anomaly._

_The crib, and Aristarchus Cygnus Black-Riddle within, disappeared immediately upon contact. Voldemort mustered his strength against the powerful, sucking current, aiming his wand at the Ethereal Rip…_

_"Fabricae tempore et spatio: proxima!" he shrieked, black panic taking a hold of his mind. _

_And the last thing Voldemort saw that night was the Rip being sewn shut, before he lost consciousness and fell to the floor._

oOoOoOo

Date Unknown-St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

"Report, Vibrosa?"

"Male. Caucasian. Six feet, five inches in height. Weight: one hundred and seventy-five pounds. Light blonde hair-color," the female voice paused, then slowly continued. "Orange irises. Marked bodily with various unknown tattoos. Completing injuries scan, now."

A suspended beat passed.

"Go on."

"Twenty-four broken bones, including right kneecap, six ribs, a fractured wrist, and a cracked skull. Multiple flesh fissures, the largest of them being across his upper abdomen. Internal hemorrhaging is heavy. A ruptured spleen, kidney..."

A woman gasped. "Merlin!"

The voice continued.

"...very oddly, the DNA test taken shows that the individual is linked directly to the Riddle and Black family trees, making him a relative of You-Know-Who himself, most likely a cousin or half-brother…"

A few more gasps echoed around the room.

"…he was discovered by MLE agents after receiving a message from a distressed squib terrified when he had appeared in her upstairs tea room in Little Hangleton, bleeding and unconscious. He is residing in 'Room #117' on the Fourth Floor. Lastly, his forename and surname are both unknown, his age is roughly seventeen to twenty, and he is currently deeply in a self-induced, injury-defensive coma. For treatment, we are supplying him with various potions, such as Skele-Gro, assorted curative elixirs…"

"Enough, Vibrosa. I hate formalities."

The room cleared at Aeschylus' command. The female Healer, Vibrosa, stopped her medical spiel, and looked attentively at her superior, Healer Aeschylus, who was rubbing his temples with two fingers each.

"I'm getting a bugger of a headache, Vibrosa. Inform Healer Michals he'll be taking my shift; I can't stand this migraine."

She nodded once, and turned to depart.

"Wait, Vibrosa." She stopped and turned, looking into the deep, green eyes of her medical boss. "Keep this bloke unidentified. Don't release to anyone his relation to You-Know-Who. We need to keep his down low in order to stop any panic from breaking out because some idiots got wind that You-Know-Who's relative appeared out of nowhere."

Wordless as always, she nodded again, revolving around once more to head off. Aeschylus watched her leave, her long, chocolate-colored hair bouncing slightly as she walked.

_Attractive enough, _he thought, _but I don't want to get tangled up with a coworker…_

The searing pain in his brain suddenly struck again, temporarily blinding him. He fell to a knee, robe billowing out behind, surprised at the amount of pain this migraine dealt him.

The pain multiplied twofold, and he fell prostrate, gripping his skull. One thought raced through his agonized mind: this was no headache.

He keened oddly, and then vomited.

World spinning around him, Aeschylus lost grip of himself, his eyes snapped shut, and he became immersed in darkness.


	3. Chapter 3: Renegade Dimension Traveler

Fated Origins: Chapter 3: Renegade Dimension Traveler

**A/N: **I would like to thank my first two reviewers for reading the story and commenting on it. This chapter is dedicated to them.

Enjoy!

38 BBY- Senator Palpatine's/Darth Sidious' Chambers

_There. _

_He had felt it again._

_An intense disturbance in the Force. More or less a spike, like if one had completed something magnificent with their powers, or perhaps, a heralded birth. This sensation usually followed either one of the two happenings._

_Darth Sidious, deep in shadowed meditation, reached out with his mind to the blip in the Force. He caressed it with his psyche's arm, coaxing the information out of it. The specifics came to him in bits and pieces._

_Korriban. A human male. Force-sensitive, obviously. A birth. No. Not a birth. An appearance. Unlike any before. But what exactly was it?_

_He streamlined his consciousness, harnessing his focus upon the disturbance, gazing hard through the Veil that covered it with his mind's eye…_

_He pushed his will lightly and broke through it. And behold, in his vision, was a cart of some sort, with a wailing baby boy lying in the center amidst blankets, both smack dab in the middle of the desert._

_Suddenly, and much to his vexation, Sidious was expelled from the Force Blip-Vision of the boy, and found himself knocked backwards. He lay on his back, stunned, but not wounded, wondering with incensed curiosity of what had just occurred._

_The boy, he deduced. He must be powerful. To generate such a disturbance in the Force, his innate abilities must be great. He hadn't seen such inherent power like this since his master, Plagueis, who had utilized Sith Alchemy to create life. How foolish is seemed, comparing an infant to his former master... _

_But it was like the child radiated an aura, and the Force had instinctively responded to it. And to mentally reject a Sith Master, trained and conditioned for years upon years, from his, a child's, own Force Signature? A massively impressive deed; it both terrified and astounded the aged Sith. But where had the boy come from? No mother was present, and that was a strange sign indeed. Even odder was his location. Perhaps he was abandoned?_

_Sidious re-entered his meditative state in the Shadow. With a tiny bit of force, he broke the Veil of the Blip once more. When he infiltrated presently, however, the child was somehow floating, suspended at least a foot above the cart. Now the Darth was sure of the child's power._

_Sidious had been waiting for the opportunity to find a fresh apprentice, for he despised Maul, his current tyro. Maul was strong, that could not be disputed, but he was obstinate, a flaw that would surely be his downfall. Sidious could not shunt aside this prospect of a prime, malleable boy with great, latent powers. A chance to begin anew._

_A plot forming within his mind, he released himself from his reflection and rose to his feet. Donning his ceremonial garb, he walked to a comm-system to this left. He pressed a small, red button and spoke into a speaker:_

_"Send Maul to my chambers at once."_

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date-St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London

Darkness.

Total, enveloping obscurity.

A flash of white emerged. Growing brighter, and brighter, and brighter, until it burst. A plethora of crimson followed, shooting out in all directions, subduing the darkness, loosing the bonds of unconsciousness. A subtle hum echoed as the Force brought its user back to cognizance.

His mind slowly reacted to the stimulation. Darth Cadmus, Dark Lord of the Sith, felt the brilliant aura of the Force surround him, stirring his mind, awakening him from his involuntary-slumber. Aware of himself, and yet not his surroundings, Cadmus used his mind, coupled with the Force, to evaluate his internal conditions. His injuries were somewhat grievous, to his chagrin, and the Sith utilized the Ethereal Energy as a stabilizer, halting detrimental processes his body was undertaking and placing bonds upon his broken bones. They would not last, but he was going to need them for the transition.

The Force gave him temporary vision, and he saw as if he were a camera above himself. Force spirit-sight. He felt a pinprick of anger at his body's state, battered and sullied. But, he knew it was nothing but a minor barrier; he would recover quickly. An estimated three to four days, with the assistance of life energy.

He also felt confusion at the fact that he was in a small, white room with various machines connected to his body and wearing some sort of shabby, white robe. Was this what Vader had done to him? Sent him to an infirmary?

He dismissed the thought immediately. Preposterous. His Master, Sidious, must have discovered him, and was keeping him alive. Yet, he still could not explain the anomaly Vader had created and cast him into. Where had it sent him? Where had be gone from there? His mind was disconcertingly blank from that time to the present.

Suddenly, a group of individuals, unknown by their Force Signatures, though they definitely did possess Signatures, appeared in the room. Humans. A young girl dressed in colorless robes, at the request of her superior, began to speak. She listed injuries and began to describe-

The knowledge suddenly struck him. They were discussing him. Of course, this must mean they were healers of some sort, as he was obviously in a sickbay. Perhaps he was on Byss? He listened with attentiveness as the woman expressed that a DNA test had proven his relations to some unknown individuals (_Black? Riddle? You-Know-Who?_), how he had been located (_a squib? an up-stairs tea room?_), and began to depict his treatment process. But the physician-girl was abruptly interrupted by her superior, concluding her account, and the room began to clear, leaving only the girl and her elder.

She turned to leave, but the superior, apparently named Aeschylus, stopped her and said something. "_Keep this bloke unidentified. Don't release to anyone his relation to You-Know-Who. We need to keep his down low in order to stop any panic from breaking out because some idiots got wind that You-Know-Who's relative appeared out of nowhere._"

Bloke? The term, perceived as a native, common one, was used to refer to himself, undoubtedly. But who exactly was this 'You-Know-Who'? Must be a joke of some sort, or perhaps an overtly notorious individual, who had his name banned from usage. This man, Aeschylus, must know something. Whatever they were discussing or planning sounded suspiciously like sedition.

Cadmus took the initiative. Using his spirit-Force, and lightly at first, he began to apply a burning to the man's brain and the nerve endings of his skull, inflaming them, simulating a minor headache. He increased the pain in steps, making sure not to damage the man's mind by overloading it with agony, until he had reduced the doctor-superior to a quivering pile on the floor. Pain was extremely useful, and his Master had taught him a surfeit of techniques by which it could be utilized. This was a very effective method, used to retrieve information from a person, usually unwilling. Aeschylus, in this case, would be much, much easier to conquer.

Aeschylus' Force Signature exploded into panic when Cadmus had increased the burning twofold, and he could feel the man's endocrine system begin to fight back. Quickly, the scorching had been upped to threefold, and the man dropped to a knee. Aeschylus was surprisingly durable to the suffering he was experiencing; no doubt the man possessed a high pain tolerance. Effortlessly, Cadmus had pushed it to fourfold, and the man went limp, his systems shutting down, putting him into an unconscious state.

Good. While Cadmus did not take explicit pleasure from inducing pain, he would need this man to hold nothing back from him, and the anguish was necessary to secure this.

Cadmus channeled the Force back into his body, which was now somewhat stable, and he began to slowly pull himself from the coma. He had done this in his training countless times, as it was invaluable if was to ever be taken prisoner. Fastidiously, he cracked loose the chains of his coma, and felt his eyelids pull open of his own accord.

Indolently, making sure not to progress too quickly, he moved both of his legs from their prostrate position and over the edge of the bed. Grasping the bar on the cot's side, he righted himself. Immediately, he felt his leg's weakness, but remained unfaltering. With the Force, he channeled energy to his leg muscles, warming them, stretching them out for his impending use. He took a step, forward, and then another, until he reached a few paces before the door. Before he reached that destination, however, he passed a mirror, and again felt anger at his weakened form. He gazed over his body, noting the remnants of his encounter with Vader, and then looked to his face. His orange eyes stared firmly back, his high, regal cheekbones standing proudly, his sculpted jaw set in determination. He would dominate his enemy after his full revival.

Upon reaching the door, he turned and looked out a window to get some form of bearings of his locale. What met his eyes what not Byss or Kamino or any familiar planet. It was an archaic-looking city, with dirty, old buildings beneath a pale blue sky. Streets ran through the city, and he saw primitive vehicles upon them, decisively on the ground and moving rather slowly. Somewhere, he had read of primordial inventions such as these. Normally, they characterized a planet with a small degree of technological advancement. But Cadmus was clueless as to any planet such as this near his Galaxy. Perhaps it was the Unknown Regions?

He turned from the window and to the door, pulling it open. The light from beyond stunned him momentarily as he stepped out.

His entrance to the outside was met with an alarmed shout.

"Freeze! Hands over your head! Drop your wand!"


	4. Chapter 4: Doomed Discovery

Fated Origins: Chapter 4: Doomed Discovery

**A/N: **Hello readers! Thank you to my reviewers, and especially to iamyourdad for his second review. A response to his review is at the bottom.

Enjoy this chapter!

Unknown Date- St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London

"Freeze! Hands over your head! Drop your wand!"

Darth Cadmus, upon his exit from the white, standardized sickbay room, was met with an odd sight. Two humans, a large, dark-skinned man and a young woman with vibrantly lilac hair, both clad in strange robes, stood in hostile positions, brandishing twigs aimed at him. The Force promptly spiked in his veins, warning him of imminent danger. Danger? Laughable. They were holding sticks, for Kun's sake. Nevertheless, he readied himself for an altercation, channeling the Force to the spirit-bonds around his weak, fractured bones and his recently-unexploited muscles. It would be imperative that he avoid hand-to-hand combat in his weakened state, for any significant blow might dismantle the bonds around his bone cracks.

Cadmus continued to quickly take account of his surroundings. Small room. Corridor to the left. Multiple chairs, vases and tables-improvised missiles.

_This should be simple._

The dark-skinned man bellowed again.

"Aristarchus Riddle, drop your wand and place your hands over your head!"

Cadmus stirred not an inch. How dare this soil-hided man command a Sith Lord! He did not know who 'Aristarchus Riddle' was, but he was aware that he was being threatened, and so he acted accordingly.

And it was then the concentrated training and exhaustive combat experience of a Dark Lord of the Sith manifested in an elegant display of power. With a swift flick of his left wrist, the dual twigs of the challengers, despite their harmless appearance were obviously some sort of weapon, were banished from their wielder's hands, flying harmlessly across the hallway. The Sith Lord rapidly proceeded to summon a glass table in the Force from behind the large man, and slammed it into the back of his skull. He dropped like an inanimate toy.

The girl shrieked, diving gracelessly to the left. Cadmus reached down to his side to retrieve his lightsaber, and in a flash of shock, found it was not there. Cadmus flung the table in her direction, but she ducked low, and it sailed over her head, smashing to shards against a wall.

In a moment of extreme folly, the lilac-haired female sprung up and charged him, fist raised to strike. Cadmus was struck for a moment at her stupidity; to charge a Force-wielding Sith weaponless was simply inane. The moment she was a pace before him, he sidestepped, bringing his large forearm up and underneath her raised appendages, connecting with her jaw in a resounding blow. She sailed horizontally beneath his limb, her skull hitting the tile with a thud.

It was over as fast as it had begun; Cadmus stood victorious, un-sapped in spite of his injured status, while the two twig-toting assailants lay non-problematically defeated. He had been correct; the fight had been effortless.

But, the whole concept of the struggle's origins confused him. Why did they attack him? And who was 'Aristarchus Riddle'? Was it a code name of some sort? The only plausible conclusion was that the two aggressors were Rebel agents who had taken the cowardly opportunity of the fact the Sith Lord was in an undermined position to slay him.

So, this primitive planet held assassin, stick-brandishing Rebels? The inference seemed strange and erroneous, and he would require information to clarify the situation. He searched both for identification, but found none. Odd. The Aeschylus man he had taken down would need to be questioned, but as for now, the lilac-haired girl would suffice for immediate explanation.

Reaching down, he grabbed the girl and dragged her to a wall, leaning her up against it. He drew back, and slapped her once, a mighty smack.

Her eyes popped open, but she immediately closed them again in blatant pain. "Wha…? What's going on?" she inquired in the voice of a drunkard, coming to, words slurring together due to her dazed condition.

"Do not speak unless directed to, _schutta_," Cadmus growled, slapping her once more. "You will answer my questions directly, or you will suffer. You have committed a grave felony already, _schutta,_ and you are aware the penalty for treason against the Empire is death. Now, are you willing to comply?"

The young woman did not respond, but simply stared at him in dread. Her Force signature radiated unreserved panic, confusion and incredulity, the last being connected to the fact she was some sort of prided figure unfamiliar to being subjugated. Perhaps law-enforcement or another position of authority? She nodded once at him, sharply.

"What planet is this?"

Her eyes squinted for a moment, and he read further confusion in her Signature. She did not immediately reply, and he took this as disobedience.

He grabbed her around her pristinely alabaster throat and lifted her clear up off of the ground. She dangled nearly a foot in the air, being that much shorter than he. Cadmus slammed her hard against the wall and leaned in close to her frightened face. He put his lips next to her ear, and hissed in the tone of a serpent:

"Now, I don't think we greeted one another properly. I am Darth Cadmus, Dark Lord of the Sith," he observed her countenance for any traces of further horror, but none showed. Was he not notorious here? "And if you do not answer my questions properly, I will be forced to break you and retrieve them. Now, you are?" He articulated the last question repulsively sweetly.

She choked out a one-worded reply.

"Tonks."

Cadmus wrinkled his nose; the wench's name did not match her external attractiveness. He released his grip around her neck and dropped her, before continuing.

"Tonks, once more, what planet is this?"

"Earth?" she said the name slowly, and like a question, as if it was common knowledge.

"What Sector is this Earth located in?"

Her eyes widened. "Sector…?"

He struck her with his open palm immediately. Cadmus would not tolerate insubordination.

"Yes Sector! Do not play games with me, Rebel whore!"

She did not respond, and Cadmus could sense the legitimate confusion in her mind. Nonetheless, he reacted with a brutal tactic, wielding the Force to twist and pinch the nerve endings of her cranium. Tonks screamed in utter agony, grabbing her head and writhing like an earthworm in the rain.

He sustained it for several moments, and then released her from the excruciating sensation.

"Now, Tonks," he drawled evenly. "You must understand: I am alone on this foreign world. You know the lay of the land, and I do not. I require your assistance, and if you help me correctly, I may exonerate you of your crime."

She sat blubbering from the recent, incredible pain, unheeding of his words, and he knew she would be fruitless in any further interrogating unless he acquired the knowledge directly from her. Without further hesitation, he used the Force to delve straight into her psyche, penetrating her feeble defenses, and his own mind was suddenly flooded with information. Images and memories poured into his head, but he locked them away, searching instead for valuable data.

Aha. His assumptions of a primitive planet were correct. But magic? These supernatural sentients lived separate the others, hidden in their powers. He had not heard of anything like it. Apparently, the species collectively was pre-hyperspacial technologically, and possessed little in the ways of any other space travel, though the planet contained near seven billion in its population. How odd, considering-

He would deliberate on the matter at another time, for the Tonks girl began to grow hysterical.

He pulled himself from the recesses of her mind, and left her a weeping, twitching mess on the floor. Observing her condition, he decided to switch methods. Reaching down, he caressed the side of her face with a long-fingered hand, and delicately tweaked her nervous system. Tonks gasped as Cadmus sent her hypothalamus into overdrive, releasing unbelievable amounts of serotonin and dopamine into her nerve receptacles. No doubt, it was pleasure unlike any she had experienced before, as it was impossible for any machine or substance to replicate.

She shuddered at the intensity of the sheer ecstasy, her limbs stretching out of their own accord. Her eyes grew red-ringed, and she gazed up at him in enormous gratitude, her mind already pushing aside the fact he had caused her the pain, and wrapping around the idea that he was her savior from it. And to Cadmus' shock, her hair's coloring suddenly altered, becoming a deep pink.

"Thank you…" she began.

"Tonks, I will require your aid with permanence. For this reason, you may address me as Master. Until we become intimate, you may not call me Cadmus," he stated, his voice smooth and authoritative. "Now, rise. There are some matters that must be taken care of."

She struggled, and Cadmus wrapped a single, strong aarm around her petite, firm frame, guiding her to her feet.

"Firstly, what sort of trick did you just perform on your hair?" he said, orange eyes apprehensively inquisitive.

Tonks looked downwards under the power of his gaze. "It's not a trick. I am what is called a Metamorphagus. I can change my appearance at will."

"Incredible…" he whispered. The closest a Sith could come to this ability was a permanent glamour trick, yet, they could not rearrange their body's structure or anything of the sort. Nevertheless, he was sure the ability would be harmless against him.

"Nymphadora?" he inquired enticingly.

She twitched.

"Yes, Master?"

"Find me garments, we must depart."

oOoOoOo

38 BBY-Korriban

_Darth Maul, apprentice of Master Sidious, was irritated, to say the least. Sidious had ordered the Dathomirian to partake in a seemingly ridiculous mission: to retrieve a boy from the surface of Korriban. He had sent the red-skinned Sith with a small, recon ship and instructions on how to discover the boy's location. It was inane, a supreme waste of time. He was above simple rescue missions._

_For unknown reasons, he found himself following orders and on the surface of the desert planet. The sandy wind whipped his face and billowed out his cloak, and Maul grew increasingly vexed. A small stone flew up and collided with his forehead. _

_"Damn it!" he growled._

_Suddenly, the Darth was aware of a massive presence in the Force near him. He turned and followed it, and in fruit of his two-hour journey across the wasteland, found a small, white cart with a baby boy inside. He looked over the carrier for identification, and discovered a small, metal plate with words inscribed upon it. The language was somewhat similar to Basic, and Maul astonishingly found he could read it._

_'Aristarchus Cygnus Riddle-Black. Born July 8, 1943.' The first was obviously a name, while the second part confused him. Possibly a date? No matter._

_The Sith reached down into the crib, hands extended to grab the child-_

_Another sizable rock flew up from adjacent the crib and hit the Darth in the temple. He stepped backwards and cursed. He reached up and felt his skull, pulling his hand away to discover crimson on his fingertips. _

_"The little shit…"_

_That rock was much too large to be carried by the wind. The boy must have done it. Maul's rationality dropped away, and he felt himself become enraged. A child attacking a Sith Lord? Unheard of!_

_He drew his lightsaber, activated it, and held it above his head._

_"Stupid boy", he growled. "I don't care if my Master wanted you. You will pay for that-,"_

_Maul halted his tirade and abruptly screamed:_

_A crimson lightsaber pierced through his chest._

oOoOoOo

Review Response: iamyourdad: Thanks for your second review. To answer your question, I am not sure or not if Cadmus will even need to learn magic. He has it in him, but it is manifest in the Force. All he would do in essence is learn incantations and use a wand. Not much different.


	5. Chapter 5: Terrifying Information

Fated Origins: Chapter 5: Terrifying Information

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! And remember, reviews are an author's steroids.

oOoOoOo

"_I will show you fear in a handful of dust."~__ The Waste Land__, T.S. Eliot_

July 15, 1996, Day One of Cadmus' Return, 4:00 P.M.-12 Grimmauld Place, London

"May I begin this gathering of the Order by saying this: nothing of which I am about to inform you of may leave this room. I trust all of you, but it is of utmost importance that this matter does not leak into the public forum." the aged man paused, allowed his gaze to pass over each and every face in the room, and continued. "It has come to my attention, as well as the Minister's and a few other important individuals', that an unknown male wizard, grievously injured, appeared at approximately four o'clock in the morning in the formerly-Riddle manor in Little Hangleton. The manor's current tenant, a squib named Margaret Merwick, promptly contacted Depart of Magical Law Enforcement officials upon her discovery of the man, who had strangely and inexplicably materialized, if I may, in her upstairs tea room. Seemingly out of thin air."

The timeworn wizard halted his informative monologue once more, allowing those seated around the long, wooden table to absorb the seemingly implausible material. His wise periwinkle eyes held not their usual twinkle, but a vague veil of anxiety, indicating the matter at hand was not of the best circumstances.

"Now, following this, the DMLE submitted the man to St. Mungo's around five o'clock, and he subsequently surprised the entire medical team with two very, very strange discoveries. Firstly, the wizard was able to gain the amount of coalescence a normal person would receive from careful treatment and bedrest in about two weeks in three hours. Quite remarkable, if I do say so myself…" he drifted off slightly, and a sharply cleared throat steered him back to the topic. "Forgive me, I tend to ramble. Anyways, succeeding this peculiar recuperation, a D-N-A test was taken, and his genetic profile, albeit incomplete, was revealed to the Healers."

The sage-like warlock adjourned his dialogue for a third time, allowing the tension in the room's air to propagate twofold, until an impatient inquiry broke the silence. "And…?"

"Well, Mr. Weasley, I must warn you, what I am about to divulge is not for the faint-of-heart." The old man gazed primly at the young, red-haired disrupter, Bill Weasley. "It would seem that the DNA test exposed a rather disturbing notion regarding the mysterious wizard. It would seem, at the exposure of the hereditary assessment, that this man is both a direction relation of the Black family…

A deferred beat passed.

"…and the Riddle family. From this information, we deduced that this person is indeed Aristarchus Cygnus Riddle-Black, the long-lost half-brother of Lord Voldemort, who disappeared bafflingly at the age of one week."

The unreserved shock of the moment was suspended, and then it broke like the walls of a dam, releasing a torrent. Gasps and cries perforated the air of the small dining room, while some leapt wholly from their chairs. Choruses of 'Dear Merlin, no!' and 'Merlin, save us!' joined the shocked exclamations. Molly Weasley toppled from her chair as the encumbrance of this information rendered her unconscious. Albus Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the helm of the table, and projected his voice over the commotion:

"Everyone, please, sit down and lower your voices! There is more to discuss!"

Eventually, and after Molly had been reawakened, the collective room's occupants settled down and returned to their seats. Most of them still wore the look a fish out of water.

"Now," continued the revered Headmaster of Hogwarts, "I know this is shocking and terrifying information, but I must finish, for I'm afraid there is more bad news that it is my paramount displeasure to deliver. At first, I had hoped that this Aristarchus fellow would be, in the very least, a rational being with whom we could converse and possibly gain information from about his half-brother, Voldemort." A few twitched at the Dark Wizard's moniker. "But, I, as well as my cohorts, was sorely mistaken. As some of you may have noticed, there are two empty seats here today. Order members Kingsley Shacklebolt and young Miss Nymphadora Tonks were sent by the Minister to greet Aristarchus at the Hospital, being proper conduct because of their positions as Aurors."

He coughed lightly, and removed his half-moon spectacles.

"Kingsley, a beyond capable wizard, is currently being treated for major head trauma at St. Mungo's, after being assaulted violently with a glass table. Miss Tonks is currently missing, along with Head Healer of Level Four Aeschylus Venerata, while in addition Aristarchus is nowhere to be found. We are assuming he kidnapped both Nymphadora and Aeschylus, and have consequently placed him under High Alert as a Dangerous Criminal."

Another suspended beat.

"As Kingsley had relayed to me upon his revitalization, Aristarchus is both violent and unstable. He and Miss Tonks, upon entry to Level Four where Aristarchus was receiving treatment, discovered Head Healer Aeschylus unconscious on the floor, bleeding from several facial orifices. The two Aurors attempted to revive Mr. Venerata but were unsuccessful. They proceeded to Aristarchus' room, and found him just exiting. Our two Auror friends ordered the man to remain where he was, given his ancestral history, and he reacted with extreme force, utilizing powerful wandless magic to levitate a table into the back of Mr. Shacklebolt's head. From this point, I am unaware of whatever events ensued."

The astonishment of the Order was tenfold greater than when Dumbledore had informed them of Aristarchus' familial relations. It was utterly noiseless, except for the sounds of smashing china as several teacups fell upon the floor, disregarded. Mrs. Weasley fainted anon, her eyes rolling up into her head as she slumped in her chair. Subtly, Dumbledore cast a wandless, blanketed Cheering Charm over the room, to offset the arresting shock.

Lupin was the first to react.

"HE TOOK 'DORA!" the werewolf shouted, jumping up and flinging his chair across the room quite uncharacteristically. "THE BASTARD TOOK HER!"

"Remus!" cried Minerva McGonagall, an invitee, who had, despite her old age, dodged the flying seat. "I understand you may be upset, but please refrain from throwing furniture!"

"HE TOOK HER!" he repeated in a bellow, taking out his wand. His eyes were crazed, wide like those of a madman. "I'LL KILL THAT-,"

Lupin was cut short as a red beam of light hit his chest and he subsequently dropped to the tiled floor.

"A low-power Stunner," said Dumbledore nonchalantly. "Poor Remus was having a panic attack, it seems. Arthur, your wife appears to have fainted again." he notified the Weasley patriarch, who was still staring blankly at the wall.

"Oh, yes…" mumbled Arthur vacantly. He turned unfocusedly to tend to his spouse.

Dumbledore turned to his collective audience, the Order of the Phoenix, and spoke, voice resounding resoluteness.

"I have placed Hogwarts, the Burrow, this house, and the Ministry under High Alert security measures. Be prepared for trouble, my friends."

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date, Day One of Cadmus' Return, 9:30 AM-St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries (Cadmus' POV)

_"Nymphadora?" he inquired enticingly._

_She twitched._

_"Yes, Master?"_

_"Find me garments, we must depart."_

…_:0:…_

Darth Cadmus observed his newfound devotee as she apprehensively followed his command, turning around and walking diffidently to the unconscious Kingsley Shacklebolt. Blood was trickling from a large wound on the back of his head, gathering in a crimson pool that had spread at least a foot outwards. The Sith watched as Nymphadora stared at it blankly for a moment.

"Tonks!" barked Cadmus. She jumped marginally. "Do it quickly!"

She kneeled down beside the prostrate, black-skinned man, and began to pull off the Auror's robes. Cadmus heard her faintly whisper, 'I'm sorry, Kingsley', but he overlooked the comment for the moment. He was aware Nymphadora was not yet loyal to him. But she would learn to be in time. If not, he would be forced to break her, manipulating her psyche into complete dedication, wearing her mind down until she knew nothing but allegiance to the Sith Lord. Though, he much preferred a willing follower.

She presently returned to him, head held obstinately, and thrust the robe and clothing at him with an air of defiance. He could sense all her confusion and anger, her frustration at being commanded by such a recently imposed superior, her upset disbelief at a rather frightening young man ordering her around like a common lackey. Her mind was taking the common route of one oppressed: subtle insolence. But Cadmus was no stranger to this occurrence; he had dealt with new servants and their repudiation countless times.

Cadmus swiftly grabbed the attire from her and threw it forcefully to the side. With a motion so fast it was nearly a blur, he slapped her, hard, a single blow across her immaculate left cheek. Her head snapped instantly to the right, catalyzed by the motion exerted from his strike. He would dislike punishing his new, beautiful servant, but he knew it was necessary.

"I have absolute power over you, Nymphadora," the Dark Lord of the Sith hissed, lowering himself bodily so that he could gaze into her eyes. She jerked at the mention of her forename. "You will learn to obey me impeccably, without hesitation, or I will be forced to punish you. Severely."

He expeditiously jammed his large hand into and around her petite throat, pushing her rearwards until her back came into contact with the nearest wall.

"Do you understand, _servant_?" he spat, tightening his grip around her neck portentously.

Her hair suddenly changed from its previous pink to a vivid orange. She nodded, harshly, either too stunned or too angered to vocalize a reply. He promptly released her and righted himself.

"Now, Nymphadora, pick up my clothing."

She retrieved the attire from its hastily-cast location, head still down, and carried them to him.

"Here…Master."

He smiled. "Good. You will learn with time."

Without further dithering, Cadmus reached down and tore the thin, white sheet-of-a-robe from his body with ease. Tonks colored furiously, and Cadmus smiled at her response to his nudeness. He watched as her deep, cerulean eyes roamed unabashedly over his uncovered body, taking in his sculpted muscles born from years of training, his various tattoos, his battle scars…

"Approve of what you see, Nymphadora?"

She immediately glanced away, embarrassment practically radiating from her Signature. "As if…" she muttered flippantly, cheeks a bright red.

Cadmus said naught more, simply smirking to himself while he continued to dress. The robes were somewhat loose on his figure, due to the fact the original owner was a lion of a man, but they would do. Fully garbed, he turned to Tonks.

"We must leave. I trust you, Tonks, and so I will need you to take me to a safe place. One preferably with utilities." He paused, and then continued, voice low and menacing. "But if you take me to any dangerous location, I will not hesitate to end your life."

She nodded again, eyes trained on the floor, as if any verbal communication escaped her. Cadmus reached down and grasped her chin with his long digits, raising it so that her eyes met his.

"Nymphadora, do not be fearful of your Master. If you are loyal to me, I will reward you with protection and luxuries, and you will be well-kept under my hand." She still said nothing, staring back somewhat boldly into his orange eyes. "Now, come, I must attend to the Aeschylus man."

He guided her in front of him, and they walked, Tonks traversing ahead while Cadmus followed behind, observing and studying their surroundings in the Force. External and environmental awareness were two of Cadmus' strong suits, developed from grueling training sessions involving the young Sith having to find his way out of unfamiliar forests, deserts, and tundras, as well as traps and the like.

The building layout was simple, from Cadmus' Force readings. Five floors, sentients on each, multiple exits. Thankfully, he could not sense any other life forms on the current level besides himself, Tonks, and the unconscious Healer. Favorable.

"Master?" he heard Tonks ask shyly, an uncharacteristic mannerism of hers as read from what he could of her personality through her Signature.

"Yes, Tonks?"

"If I may ask, why did you attack Kingsley and me?"

"I was wondering when your questions may begin. Well, I might not have reacted so, _impolitely _had you not and your partner threatened me with those sticks and verbal commands. Furthermore, were those twigs you were brandishing legitimate weapons?"

"Well, erm, yes. They're wands…" she said slowly, as if a mere child would be aware of such knowledge.

"And what is a wand?" queried the Sith, perplexed.

She looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. He sensed irritation in her, as if she thought Cadmus was making some sort of jest. She replied in somewhat of a huff.

"A wand?" she repeated. "You know the pieces of wood that allow us to use our magic? Well, of course, there is wandless magic, which you demonstrated when-,"

Cadmus was growing quickly aggravated at the girl's rambling in the presence of her Master.

"Quiet!" he shouted, and his loud, rasping voice instantaneously silenced her. "Your incoherent response made utterly no sense. Now, let us try this again: what is a wand?" he spoke the last words through gritted teeth.

Cadmus again sensed the irritation in her, but it subsided when she saw the sincerity in his face.

"Well, basically, it is a portal through which we can use magic, Master," she explained, voice now timid after his outburst. He continued to read perplexion in her Signature, as well as a tinge of suspicion.

Cadmus was intrigued, like a child who had heard of a rollercoaster for the first time. "Interesting…You will have to demonstrate this 'magic' for me sometime. At my discretion, of course. And if we ever find you a new stick. I'm sure yours was broken in the conflict."

She nodded in assent. They presently reached the bleeding, unconscious form of Aeschylus, who was slumped up against a wall. Cadmus reached down, lifted the Healer up off the floor, and slung him over his shoulder like a vegetable sack.

"Tonks?" inquired Cadmus. "Are you able to 'magically travel'?"

"Yes, Master. There is an ability called 'Apparition', which is kind of like teleportation."

The Sith was impressed. So this 'magic' could teleport its users? Perhaps there is more than meets the eye above and beyond a twig.

"And you have your secure location in mind?"

The Metamorphagus nodded.

"Take us there."

Tonks reached up, grabbed a hold of both Cadmus and the comatose Aeschylus, and they suddenly disappeared.

oOoOoOo

**A/N: **I am aware there is no piece on Cadmus/Aristarchus' past in this chapter, but there will for sure be in the next. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: He Who Wields The Power

Fated Origins: Chapter 6: He Who Has Power

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or added this story to their favorites and alerts. Keeps me workin'. Selected review responses are at the bottom. Be sure to check 'em out.

Enjoy!

oOoOoOo

"_Is all that we see or seem_

_But a dream within a dream?"_

_A Dream Within a Dream__, Edgar Allan Poe_

oOoOoOo

38 BBY-Korriban

_"Yes, Maul was a fool, wasn't he, my dear child?"_

_Darth Sidious, known to the public as Senator Palpatine, stood like a sinister sentinel with his scarlet lightsaber still drawn; the corpse of his now ex-Apprentice, Darth Maul, lay cold at his feet. The obsidian and crimson-hided man's eyes were still peeled back in his outraged expression, the angered irises locked and frozen in the encasement of death. _

_Sidious had followed his Dathomirian trainee after relaying to him his orders, for the Sith Master had foreseen Maul's incredulity and suspicion at being sent to retrieve a mere boy from the hostile surface of a desert planet. If not at first meeting, he knew Maul would have attempted to end the child's life sometime, being of the envious and pigheaded variety. Yet, it appeared things had simply turned out favorably for Sidious. Maul's demise had cleanly presented itself before matters became complicated._

_No. Favorable circumstantiality was nonexistent: he had foreseen it. Everything was proceeding just as he had predicted it would. Maul had been easily dealt with, and now Sidious had a chance to take an Apprentice once more with this innately powerful child._

_Tragic, it would seem, that the Master had to do away with his Apprentice. But, disobeyed orders were disobeyed orders, and a noncompliant pupil was unacceptable. It had been too easy to kill him, as the red-skinned man had been too absorbed in his rage to even perceive Sidious' approach._

_"And he was quite the repulsive, unobservant creature," drawled Sidious indifferently, as he reached down into the crib and pulled out the small boy. He half-expected the child's powers to flare, or to repel him in some manner, but nothing of the sort occurred. Perhaps he thought of Sidious as a guardian, after observing him slay Maul in his defense. _

_A brief glint caught the Sith's eye._

_It was a metal plate of some sort, attached to the front of the child-carrier. He crouched to interpret it, and was just as surprised as Maul had been when he discovered he could comprehend the language inscribed on the plaque. _

_"Aristarchus Cygnus Riddle-Black…" he read, looking at the infant male in his arms. The name sounded aristocratic. Odd. Sidious was extremely inquisitive about the boy's history, but the time for questioning would not present itself for several years. But then again, he doubted the child would hold any knowledge of his previous existence. _

_"Well, Aristarchus," said the Sith, addressing the wide-eyed infant. The child's eyes were quite captivating, colored of the purest ice-blue he had ever seen on a being. "If you are to be my Apprentice, everything that currently encompasses you must be erased. To initiate this, you will require a new name." Sidious grinned chillingly, white teeth nearly gleaming in Korriban's harsh sunlight._

_"Welcome to the Dark Apprenticeship, Cadmus."_

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date, Day One of Cadmus' Return, Unknown Location-Cadmus' Perspective

Cadmus, a thoroughly trained Sith Lord, had been caught off guard by the unexpected squeezing sensation that followed Tonks' performing of the 'magical travel', Apparition. The world about him had abruptly become a blur of indiscernible chromatics and fuzzy shapes, and just as quickly as the sensation came, it had left, and he had found himself standing in a tiny, carpeted room. He stumbled forward slightly, his disorientation an after-effect of experiencing Apparition for the first time.

"By Revan!" the Sith cried, dropping the unconscious Healer Aeschylus unheedingly, hands immediately scrutinizing his own body as if he was making sure it was still whole. Force Teleportation was much more fluid and simple, and one undergoing it possessed the feeling of merely walking through a door.

"Even your magic is crude!"

His servant-girl huffed, but made no vocalizations. Wise.

Cadmus, now certain his body was intact, revolved around and examined their location, taking in the rough carpet, the scarce furniture (a table, two chairs and an illuminating-device in the corner), and the stained walls. He scowled, aghast.

"Where have you taken me?" he enquired scathingly, eyes roving about the diminutive living-area. The tiny space reminded him off the meager dwellings in the ghettos of Nar-Shaddaa. Their occupants were usually just as unsavory as their homes appeared.

She made an exasperated face, but her tone was even. "My flat, Master."

"Flat?" he repeated. "Another useless term? Is it that difficult for you to make sense in your explanations?"

Traces of confusion and umbrage in her Signature.

"Yes. A flat. _Master_," the Metamorphagus Auror countered, spitting out his appointed title like a distasteful fluid. "It's like an apartment. Well, basically, a small house."

"Well, whatever it may be, it displeases me," hissed Cadmus, wrinkling his nose. He looked very much like a child who was being forced to eat vegetables. "How do you exist in such a tiny, unkempt Hutt-hole?"

Tonks made no reply, but her shade-altering tresses did. Her shoulder-length mane burned a deep red, and Cadmus consequently smirked. A fiery one. Just to his partiality.

The Dark Lord of the Sith reached down and languorously trailed a single index finger through her now-ruby hair. On impulse, Tonks shuddered, and Cadmus' grin widened. He did have an effect on her, and it would seem both emotionally and physically.

He leaned down, close, and whispered into her ear, voice seductive and husky.

"I am hungry, Tonks, my servant. Your Master needs to be fed."

She visibly swallowed, the irises of her eyes briefly flashing pink.

"Y-yes, Master."

She quickly stepped away from him, hurrying away into another room, which he presumed was the kitchen. Faintly, he heard a moan originate from somewhere near his feet.

Cadmus peered downwards, and found Aeschylus lightly stirring, mouth gaping as the pain reinstated into his now-conscious psyche. Dried blood covered the man's face, having leaked from his nostrils and mouth following Cadmus' ruthless mental attacks.

"Bloody…hell…" the man muttered, struggling to his hands and knees.

"Well, well," drawled Cadmus, voice contemptuous. "Rise and shine, Aeschylus."

With a motion like that of a speeding bullet, the Sith Lord drew back his right leg and kicked, brutally. Cadmus' iron-like shin slammed against the side of the Healer's torso with a resonant thump and several distinct snaps. The sheer force of the blow lifted Aeschylus clear off of the floor, and he soared through the air limply, like a doll. The sullied Healer collided with a chair, flipping over it and alighting with thud on the raggedy carpet. In a flash, Cadmus was next to him, pulling him off the ground anon by the back of his white, medical robe.

Like the man was simply a toy, Cadmus spun and flung Aeschylus across the room and into a wall, the impact of his body splitting the drywall.

Cadmus was never one to enjoy being the cause of suffering, but, torture was a most viable method to securing wholesale information. When he did interrogate the man, lies and half-truths will have dissipated under the correct amount of applied force, and because of Cadmus' unacquainted circumstances, the whole truth would be required. He did not know if the man was a Rebel agent, an Empire dissolutionist, or perhaps just as he appeared to be, a bystander sickbay specialist, but nonetheless, the man had been in charge of Cadmus' treatment. At the very least, he may know how the Sith Lord arrived at the "Earth" infirmary, if "Earth" was even the planet he was currently located in. The information acquired from Tonks' mind was not sufficient, because of the possibility of implanted, false memories that had acted as defense barriers. Which, of course, was highly unlikely.

The battered Healer slid down the wall and collapsed. Cadmus began striding his way over to his victim when something unthinkable occurred.

A lamp collided with the side of his head.

The contact of the metal with his skull was somewhat light, not enough to render him unconscious, but certainly adequate to split the skin. Cadmus roared, the cry of an angered Sith, and revolved around faster than the eye could distinguish. Tonks stood before him, a newfound stick in her hand.

She bellowed. "You're not my fucking master, Riddle! _Stupefy!_"

In ostensibly slow motion, a red bolt of light emitted from the end of her extended twig and flew directly at him. With motions honed from a near decade of combat familiarity, Cadmus ducked and rolled lithely to the left. In a bout of harnessed wrath, he thrust out his right hand and projected a concentrated burst of electrical energy into her chest. With an agonized scream, she was propelled backwards through the doorway she had been standing in and out of sight. Cadmus consequently heard several loud clangs, a dull thump, and proceeding silence.

For a moment, Cadmus stood immobile, chest slightly heaving in his unhindered anger, his mind processing what had just happened.

His servant had turned to downright insurrection? It was not a completely inconceivable idea, as this girl had never tasted bondage before. Probably also due in part to the fact that her spirit was somewhat wild and untamed, from what she had displayed and what he had read from his first penetration of her mind. But how had she recovered her self-direction so completely after his first breaking of her?

No matter. No individual is indomitable. It was her own foolish actions that had just ensured the total contravention of her mind. In but a few moments, he would have her reduced to a nauseatingly loyal minion, entire will broken and pulverized under his potently compelling ministrations. Her indisputable acceptance of her servitude would have to be brought about by this unrefined technique. How sad.

An impending matter suddenly struck his mind and interrupted his reverie. Aeschylus.

He turned to the location of where he had thrown the Healer, and unexpectedly found the battered, middle-aged man crawling pitifully towards a "wand", as insolent Tonks had called it. Just before he could grasp the wooden weapon, however, Cadmus' shoe landed atop his fingers. The man keened pitiably.

"Now, now, Aeschylus, I cannot tolerate you attempting to harm me," Cadmus intoned mockingly, akin to one reprimanding a petulant child. The Sith lazily kicked the stick away, and it rolled innocuously across the floor.

"W-what do you want from me?" questioned Aeschylus weakly, green eyes broad. The Healer was in awful condition, to say the least. Blood soaked his robes in several places, and his wrist was bent at a disconcertingly unnatural angle.

The Sith crouched, and Aeschylus flinched at his captor's close proximity.

"Aeschylus, you are no welcome receiver of pain," Cadmus continued, voice still sardonic. "If you would like this questioning to be smooth and without injury, then it would be wise of you to wholly cooperate with me. Now, to begin, where am I?"

Aeschylus gawked at him as if he were insane.

Cadmus' irritation pricked.

"Answer me!" he roared, lifting his right hand and summoning a ball of flame as a catalyst.

"Alright, alright!" cried Aeschylus, though still clearly confused at the query. "We're in London, England!"

Cadmus blinked. The stupidity...

"And where is this 'London, England' located?"

"Europe? Earth?" the man said perplexedly. "Look, I don't know what you want me to-,"

Cadmus brought his foot down on Aeschylus hand anon, hard. Several pops immediately followed, and Aeschylus resultantly howled in pain.

"Do not speak unless directed to!" Cadmus shrieked. "Earth is this planet then, yes?" Aeschylus feebly nodded. "What levels of technology does this 'Earth' possess?"

Aeschylus whimpered. Cadmus could sense the man's bewilderment growing overburdening. If he was to push him any further, the Healer might enter a catatonic state, and would be useless for additional questioning.

Cadmus relinquished his foot from the man's hand, and instead switched his interrogatory tactic.

"Aeschylus, you must understand," he said, voice now soft and harmless. "I am lost and alone on this unfamiliar world. You see, I am not this 'Riddle' that you presumed I was. I am Darth Cadmus, native of glorious Korriban, Shadowed Hand of Emperor Sidious."

He observed the Healer's face for any traces of recognition or fear. None showed. Perhaps this planet actually was too primitive and distant to have heard of him…

"Do you want the pain to go away, Aeschylus?" queried the Sith in a hushed tone.

"Y-yes. Please."

"Then you must answer my enquiries. What levels of technology does this planet possess?"

"Well," hesitantly began the Healer. "We have cars, and erm, planes. Boats. Trains. Computers. I think there is a space station…"

This information confirmed Cadmus' allegations. Pre-hyperspacial in travel. Minimal in the way of computers. Personal flight-vehicles not yet available. It was all utterly primordial. But, there still was this 'magic' element...

"Aeschylus, expound for me upon this matter of-,"

_Pop_.

_Pop._

_Pop._

Cadmus froze.

"Well, hello there, Riddle."

oOoOoOo

Chapter 5 Review Responses:

_Julian Carax_: Yes, I must admit, I drew upon the fact that the whole "tied to love" aspect really kind of killed "Broken Chains" (for me) to compose this story.

_darkangelmanz: _Thanks for your kind words! And, it is safe to say, that this will be completely different from Darth Marrs' fic. And, though it will be revealed later in the story, "the Force" is simply Aristarchus/Cadmus' powerful, innate magic manifest; it could be equated to potent wandless magic. It is basically a form of magic, and his Force powers are possible due to his magic. Collectively, (for the sake of this story) the Force and the magic of HP are synonymous in how they operate. Because of this, Cadmus will retain his powers as a Sith Lord, and not weakened or made stronger in the HP 'verse. It's technically like he's the same being, but in a separate universe. That probably didn't clear anything up, sorry. Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapters to come!


	7. Chapter 7: Ambiguous Revelations

Fated Origins: Chapter 7: Ambiguous Revelations

**A/N: **Once again, thanks to my reviewers and readers. Hope you enjoy this update, and selected review responses are at the bottom.

oOoOoOo

"_Equality is a lie…A myth to appease the masses. Simply look around and you will see the lie for what it is! There are those with power, those with the strength and will to lead. And there are those meant to follow—those incapable of anything but servitude and a meager, worthless existence."  
-Darth Bane_

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date, Day One of Cadmus' Return, Nymphadora Tonks' Flat

_Pop._

_Pop._

_Pop._

_Cadmus froze._

_"Well, hello there, Riddle."_

_..:O:.._

The gruff, male voice continued without omitting a beat.

"It was a stupid choice to come here, Riddle. Activated Tonks' wards. The entire force is on their way, right now. Your little crime spree is over."

Spree? Who dare paint a Sith Lord a common felon? Cadmus spun around to face his impudent challenger.

Challenger-_s_. Three humanoid men stood before him, wands held purposefully in their outstretched hands and vindication etched into their countenances. Their defensive stances portrayed combat training of some sort. They were dressed in the same dark robes as the one he currently wore, the oversized garment that Tonks had retrieved from the large, black-skinned man.

Local law enforcement. Again. This planet would pay direly for its imprudent actions against the Empire.

"Not so fast, Riddle!" the peacekeeper on the left shouted. "Don't move another inch!"

Like an onslaught of molten lava, anger coursed through the veins of Cadmus. Again these insolents order him? The Galaxy bows to the Empire!

His robes began to billow about slightly as his anger bonded with the Force, congealing in a heated, vehement aura. Around them, the air appeared to thicken and grow heavier, as the lighting dulled into a dim glow. Shadows in the now darkened space looked as if to twist and be animate, like convulsing sheets of black matter. The orange of his Sith's irises seemed to illuminate in the absolute energy of his power.

One of the officials' eyes widened faintly, and he took a hesitant step backwards. "What in Merlin's-,"

With a resonant crack, the speaking man's head suddenly swiveled a swift half-circle. His spinal column snapped like brittle matchwood, and his limbs instantly slackened at the loss of nervous control. Like a teetering tree split to the very edge of its trunk, he took another unconscious step backwards and fell. His large body hit the carpet listlessly, his wand tumbling to the floor like just what it was, an ineffective twig.

The Dark Lord of the Sith had not even stirred. Too simple.

"Williamson!" the middle one frenziedly shouted. "You ruddy bastard! _Stupefy!_"

Cadmus was unaware of the magic curse even hitting him; all that it brought about was the sensation that somebody had dealt him a blow to the abdomen. Cadmus roared; a half-angered, half-amused sound that echoed in the enclosed space.

"Foolish magicians!" the Sith growled. "Now, know true power!"

In a mighty motion, he drew back and then thrust out his arms, a powerful wave of the Force emitting on command. Both adversaries were tossed like mere leaves to the rear, one colliding with the wall, and the other the table.

Cadmus' aura now a wrathful tempest, he lashed out in the Force, attacking the prostrate officer nearest him with a vicious, internal strike. He was defenseless against the Sith's Force attacks; incapable of wielding the energy to block him. The man screamed like a dying rabbit, gripping his torso with both hands as Cadmus ruthlessly tore at his sinews and capillaries with an invisible hand. Convulsing as his inner systems were dismantled by the very seams, he vomited a spray of crimson blood, which splattered like erratically-tossed paint on the nearest wall.

With a final manipulation of the Force, Cadmus tweaked the man's heart, causing it to explode like an overripe fruit in the sun. His misery ended; Death took him, desecrated, and he immediately went motionless. Cadmus whipped around to locate his cohort….

The other attacker had recovered.

"_Bombarda!"_

With barely a moment to react to the obvious hex, Cadmus propelled himself sharply to the left with a burst of Force energy, and he watched as a hole was blown clearly through the wall he was standing before seconds ago. Night sky became visible through the breach, stars twinkling and a moon hanging low.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Cadmus dodged the enchantment like a nimble fox. The being that had fired it was several paces in front of him, a somewhat portly man with a strange, mechanical eye that pivoted about wildly. His forehead had a significant lateral laceration, no doubt inflicted by Cadmus' attack. Without pausing, the odd-eyed man began to wave his wand in irregular motions, and akin to a blaster pistol, began to fire red bolts of light from it.

And with that, a furious mêlée inaugurated. The Sith Lord moved like grace incarnate, sprightly bobbing and evading every magical enchantment the man of girth cast at him. In turn, Cadmus unleashed a devastatingly powerful stream of Electrical Force from his fingers, the blue strands of pure energy erupting from the tips like jets of jagged water. But the man was resilient, conjuring up a protective shield of magic, which managed to barely withstand the raw power of the Lightning. Cadmus felt the shield quickly weaken under the unfailing attack and the man accordingly grow alarmed at this display of strength…

The safeguard broke. Cadmus suspended the Lightning, drawing in his intensity. Time seemed to become a dying crawl, as Cadmus raised his arms into the air and brought them down again like two powerful hammers. He struck the duo of limbs against the floor, and consequentially, the air seemed to detonate. The big man was blown backwards at the shockwave of utter power that was released, straight through the wall, which too came loose. An uproar of dynamic ambient energy pulsated through the tiny room, demolishing and sullying everything and anything that was ill-fated enough to be present.

In a moment, it was finished. Cadmus stood, torso heaving in his power, the air amidst crackling with the live energy of it. The flat had been subsequently ravaged; the wall the man had been blown through completely shattered, the sparse furniture scattered and broken. It appeared as if someone had let off an explosion in the space. Truly a wonder that the building was even still standing, reduced now to a chaotic hull.

He remained there like a colossus, the fresh saccharine of victory dousing over him like water over a raging fire. His unparalleled skill was a glorious sight; the full culmination of everything that encompassed a true Dark Lord of the Sith, beheld in a single act of capability. Eyes aflame with the dark passion of the Force's Shadow, he turned, and with a sweeping motion of his long arms, blew out the rest of the partitions. Each blew apart like frail chalk, the rubble scattering in all directions, until nothing was left but the home's frame. With a gleeful cackle, he flicked his extraordinarily long fingers upwards, and the flat's roof was torn from the skeleton. He simply held it there for a moment, suspended, before flinging it like a weightless stone into the night.

The expanse of the shrouded sky was laid bare before him. Stars hailed his power, and the moon seemed to distantly pay its respects. This planet would bow before him of their accord or by coercion, surely, but somehow he vaguely felt a sense of kinship with this astral piece of rock. It appeared to welcome him, as if he belonged here. Perhaps, it would not needlessly be destroyed…

A shrill moan pierced the recently-established tranquility.

Tonks.

With a commanding gait, Cadmus strode through the exposed doorframe and into the following room. There, in a heap, Nymphadora Tonks lay lightly rousing, beneath a row of smashed, wooden cabinets. In three paces, Cadmus was before her, heaving her off of the ground by her hair. She yelped numbly.

"You betrayed me, Tonks," he hissed, eyes flashing like pools of magma. "But, because of these strange circumstances, I cannot kill you. I still require of you. Be grateful, you foolish girl; I should have you torn limb from limb at the gnarled hands of a Rancor in the Death Pits."

She said nothing, most likely due to the fact she was still half-unconscious.

"Not even good for simple communication," the Sith muttered.

With one arm, he hauled her up and onto his shoulder.

And without another glance about the ruined flat, he proceeded through the uncovered side of the building and into the alien night.

oOoOoOo

July 16, 1996, Day Two of Cadmus' Return, 4:00 A.M.-Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Albus, we're doomed-"

"Relative of You-Know-Who, kidnapped Nymphadora Tonks and that Healer; who the bloody hell knows what he could be doing as we speak-,"

"We need international help-,"

"He could be anywhere, for Merlin's sake-,"

"Enough!"

The last exasperated order silenced all the jumbled voices.

"We cannot reach a solution with several opinions being put forth at once!" the timeworn speaker said resolutely. "So, if I may, I would like Alastor to kindly tell-,"

"But Albus-,"

"Quiet Severus! You will have your turn soon enough," stated Albus Dumbledore firmly. His kind, wizened face was not its usual state of lightheartedness; rather it seemed fraught with the weight of an immeasurable burden. "Now, I would like to ask you, Alastor, to please tell us the specific events of last night. It is necessary that we be acquainted with all we are able to about Riddle."

The grizzled old Auror, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, who was sitting in an old chair in the corner of the Headmaster's Office, nodded once. His eye swiveled about wildly, no doubt observing the room warily in his paranoia.

"Went a little something like this," he began, his gruff voice somewhat withdrawn. "I had been at the Ministry, around ten o' clock, on duty, when Gawain Robards had called for me, John Dawlish, and Desiderus Williamson. Told us Riddle had been located, after activating the wards at Tonks' flat. He wanted us as first-responders, and assured us the rest of the Force would be right on our heels. So we went, and to our own damn shock, found some kid, barely twenty, beating the living piss outta' Aeschylus Venerata. The Healer from St. Mungo's. The one he kidnapped." he paused, looking atypically anxious. He swallowed, and then continued, voice low.

"We ordered him to stop. Of course, we didn't expect much of a fight from this green-eared kid, even after hearing of what he did to Kingsley. Next thing I know, Williamson is falling to the floor with his spinal cord snapped so clean it looked like someone had cut it with a razor blade. The bastard hadn't even moved. John Dawlish threw a Stunner at him, but the bugger didn't even falter. In response, Riddle wielded some powerful wandless magic, and threw Dawlish and I back like toys."

He stopped once more, removing a small flask from his pocket and taking a hearty pull.

"I hit a wall, hard, and then fell to the floor. Not as quick nor as durable as I used to be, I picked myself up and found the bugger hitting Dawlish with a wandless curse of some sort. I first thought it was the _Cruciatus_, from the way Dawlish was screaming, but as I discovered later, it wasn't. It was something much worse."

His brown eye grew distant, and he looked troubled.

"When the Healers took a look at him, the said it was unlike anything they had ever seen. The ruddy bastard had ripped Dawlish up from the inside, like Riddle had taken a lawnmower to his internal system. Nasty, dark magic, it was. Well, subsequent that, I attacked Riddle with everything I could muster. Threw Stunners and curses as rapidly as I could summon 'em. But they did naught. Riddle moved like nothing I had ever been exposed to. No Death Eater or opponent I have ever faced could so gracefully shift about. He dodged everything I cast at him, and then utilized an incredibly strong spell to attack me. I blocked it with a Shielding Charm, but it broke through. Then, he performed such a prevailing act of magic that I was blown straight through a wall and knocked unconscious. I have no recollection of anything past that point until I came to."

"When I woke, Tonks' flat looked like it had been hit by one of those Muggle 'nuclear weapons'. All the walls had been blown out, and the roof had been torn off. Only thing left standing of the house was its frame. After checking the outside for signs of Riddle, I went in, and found Aeschylus barely alive, bleeding from every hole on his body. He told me some strange things. Information about Riddle. Said that Riddle was exhibiting signs of extreme insanity, that he was claiming to be someone named 'Darth Cadmus', and was inquiring about very odd topics, like the planet and technology. I left Aeschylus, and went to find Tonks…

"…but to no avail. Tonks is still missing, and Riddle is as well."

The aged Auror finished on that abrupt note, leaning back in his luxurious, velvet seat and gulping from his flagon. For a long, extensive period, nobody spoke. The sheer astonishing quality of the information seemed to inundate everyone's minds. Even Fawkes the phoenix sat unmoving on his perch, a queer look about its features.

Dumbledore was the first to break the lengthy hush.

"I shall say this, and I shall say this only once," he said, voice strained. "Under no circumstances will anyone go looking for Riddle. If you are to see the man, do not engage him in any way. He is powerful and highly dangerous. Furthermore, it is of the highest importance that this news does not reach Harry or any of the students, though I doubt it will be kept from them for long. The newspapers won't wait long to publish this, and we can only hope they consider the effect it will have on the populous."

He stood up, periwinkle eyes roaming over every face.

"I know these are some astounding revelations, but there is no time to deliberate upon them further. I wish to all of you a goodnight. There will be further discussions tomorrow, but for now, all of you should get some rest."

"But-,"

"No 'buts', Mr. Weasley. I shall see all of you tomorrow."

The collective teachers and Order members began to leave, but Dumbledore called out to one of them.

"Severus, please stay behind. I need to converse a matter with you."

oOoOoOo

Chapter Six Selected Review Responses:

_anon (I had to reply to this, it being my first flame/negative review): _Let me begin by saying: this is not an imitation of Broken Chains, in any sense. Yes, some scenes may be similar to those in the story, but they are my own. They are different. Just look at my story! The entire plot is different, for God's sake. Furthermore: Cadmus is definitely not a Gary Stu, though I could see why you might think of him as one. He is an intensively-trained, powerful Sith Lord. That is all the reason you need. Plus, he has many character flaws.

_GenoBeast: _You know, your idea is actually quite good. I am really toying with that possibility. As for the Vader/Cadmus battle, you are correct, I simply needed some way to get Cadmus into HP 'verse. Thanks for your review!

_darkangelmanz: _No problem, your reviews are great! Yes, I see what you are saying. It just might be that Cadmus is so powerful and well-versed in the Force/magic, that he holds no need to use a wand. You will find out soon. As for your last question, yes I am. Cadmus will be wielding the Force as his main weapon, throughout the story, as well as hand-to-hand combat. Thanks for your review!


	8. Chapter 8: A Sith Makes Trouble

Fated Origins: Chapter 8: A Sith Makes Trouble

**A/N: **Hey everyone! I want to apoligize for the lateness of this update. I'm not too pleased at how this chapter turned out, for I had some horrible writer's block, and I was also devoting some time to a new story. Don't worry! I will be continuing this one as well! Selected review responses are at the bottom.

Enjoy! And remember: Don't take any wooden nickels.

oOoOoOo

"_Why do they speak such loveless deceptions? Come, I shall show you true terror in a world without warmth."_

oOoOoOo

32 BBY-Naboo, Home of Chancellor Palpatine/Darth Sidious

_"Look at the feeble Jedi, Cadmus. Look at him."_

_"Yes, Master."_

_"Why is this Jedi incarcerated before us in this manner?"_

_A pause._

_"Because, Master, the Jedi is weak."_

_A nod of approval._

_"Yes, Cadmus, you are learning. This Jedi is weak. But why is the Jedi weak?"_

_No pause._

_"Master, the Jedi is weak because of his beliefs. The Jedi cannot know true power as his principles restrict him."_

_A light, solitary applause._

_"Good, Cadmus. Good! Yes, the Jedi are incapable of true mastery over the Force because of their foolish tenets. Instead of power, they would have false peace. Instead of domination, they would have unmerited equality. Instead of the most powerful, the most capable, the most skilled to be in power, they would have the Galaxy ruled by the weaklings! The inferior! Do you see their lies for what they are, Cadmus?"_

_A strong, confident response._

_"I do, Master."_

_Derangement, in a gleeful smile. _

_"Lies and their creators must be destroyed, Cadmus! By our hand! You, my son, are a prodigy of the Darkness! It is you who will restore the Galaxy to its rightful position under the glorious hand of the Sith! Show me your power, Cadmus: kill the Jedi before you!"_

_A pair of frightened emerald eyes widened as they looked into a smaller set of unsure ice-colored ones._

_"But, Master-,"_

_A swift blow across the little head._

_"Do not question me, boy! Act, or there shall be consequences."_

_The young child gulped, and then raised his hand shakily._

_"Yes, boy!" cried his Master. "End her with the Force! Concentrate, Cadmus. Channel the Shade within you."_

_The adolescent shut tight his eyes._

_In a moment, the bound, female Jedi on the floor began to writhe like an injured snake. Her mouth snapped open, but no sound was emitted. Muted._

_"Yes! Yes! Continue, Cadmus!" the Master shrieked merrily._

_The boy's perceptions became hazy and clouded as he thrust the Force through him, feeding the Darkness that was not there. He could feel his energy wilting away at the expenditure of this act , this hateful summoning of an inner malevolence that the boy did not possess. Despite this, he could feel it begin to build within him, like bricks, the fledgling wickedness becoming a layer at the base of his soul._

_A tear leaked from his adolescent eye. And then, he felt an absence._

_After several moments, he gradually opened his eyes, aware that the Force had halted its momentum through him. It had stopped of its own accord; his unblemished spirit had halted the flow. _

_The female Jedi lay before him, twitching in a heap on the ground, yet very much alive. Her red-ringed green eyes bore into his, silently thanking him. He smiled weakly and began to-_

_The boy suddenly felt himself ascend violently off of the ground. Without any admonition, he was thrown forcibly across the room, and he slammed like a straw-doll into a metal wall. With a thud, he returned to the floor as gravity reclaimed him._

_The boy shakily gazed up, his consciousness a battered jumble, and found himself looking up into the orange eyes of his Master._

_The iniquitous old man grinned._

_"You are nothing but a weak boy, Cadmus. You did not act as your Master commanded. You know the policy, little adept. Disobedient apprentices must be dealt with," he paused, watching the child's face. Finding no fear to his astonishment, he continued, voice high and innocuous. "This will pain me more than it will pain you."_

_The Sith Master raised his right hand._

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date, Day Two of Cadmus' Return, Streets of Greater London

The glare of streetlights hailed the Sith Lord as he walked, like a menacing titan, upon a concrete path beside a primitive urban travelway called '_Cadogan Street_', which he inferred from a small sign that he had passed. It had been a short time from when he had departed from the now-derelict Tonks' flat, and the flat's owner was still unconscious in his arms. Well, over his shoulder.

As he traversed down the lane, his eyes wandered over the small, ubiquitous buildings that lined the side of the pathway. They were definitely housing, from their mere look.

Common, ordered accommodation, causeways with archaic vehicles, law enforcement…

From this information, he gathered that, though this planet was indeed prehistoric in technology and civilization, they were nearing a breakthrough in their existing equipment. The urbanity of this district in which he walked stood to attest to it; at this stage of planetary development, with structured housing and vehicles, they were nearing a point where some form of interplanetary transportation would need to be invented, or risk massive outbreaks of disease and warfare from overpopulation. Then again, he wasn't aware of the planet's size…

"'Ello there, where are you headed, sir? And do you need assistance with that lass? She hurt?"

Cadmus immediately paused. The vocalization had emanated from directly behind him. In a split second decision, he chose to not attack the being directly, and risk a company of them.

Cadmus slowly revolved around.

A human male stood before him, clad in a dark uniform, a strange hat atop his head. The man carried a baton or club of some sort at his side. And oddly enough, this individual differed from all others Cadmus had encountered in that he had no Force Signature.

"No. That will not be necessary. She is in good health." Cadmus said slowly, beginning to turn around again.

"'Fraid I must ask then, sir, why she is on your shoulder?" the man continued, eyes narrowing slightly.

Cadmus thought quickly. "She is thoroughly inebriated. Can't move or perform basic functions. She's my wife, and I'm just taking her home from a festivity."

The man chuckled.

"Well, son, let me just call up a patrol car for ye', I presume you don't want to walk all the way there!" he articulated brightly, retrieving a small, black object from his pocket.

From a bystander's point of view, what occurred next would have appeared slightly comical. The uniformed man was suddenly thrown backwards through the air, pitching about inanimately, before he brusquely collided with a tree. With a dulled thump, the man returned to the grassy earth.

Surprisingly, the man was not unconscious. Instead, he dazedly grabbed the black object from its position a few inches from him, and drew it to his lips shakily.

"HELP!" he shouted into it. "I NEED ASSISTANCE AT CADOGAN STREET!"

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Chapter Seven Selected Review Responses:

_bittatatat: _Thanks for your review! And perhaps. Perhaps. (Evil laugh) No, no, I'm not quite sure of any ships just yet. But to me, I don't think Tonks would immediately take a liking to someone who has tortured her...Maybe Stockholm? Who knows!

_arturus: _Thanks for review! I just started your fic, A New Order, and it's good so far! And don't worry, Cadmus will have his fair share of defeats.


	9. Chapter 9: I Am the Law

Fated Origins: Chapter 9: I Am the Law

**A/N: **To begin this long overdue update of _Fated Origins_, I would like to sincerely apologize to all of my readers for the delay in updating. I have had a difficult year of school, and much of my time has been consumed with useless shit that does not involve updating my fanfics. Thank you all for your patience with me and my idiocy, and please continue your longsuffering as I update continually over the summer.

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"_The world itself is the will to power – and nothing else! And you yourself are the will to power – and nothing else!" ~Frederich Nietzsche_

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_Surprisingly, the man was not unconscious. Instead, he dazedly grabbed the black object from its position and drew it to his lips shakily._

"_HELP!" he shouted into it. "I NEED ASSISTANCE AT CADOGAN STREET!"_

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date-Day Two of Cadmus' Return, Streets of Greater London

Darth Cadmus, Dark Lord of the Sith, bared his jagged teeth, products of years of anger and maliciousness, like the pointed stone gates of the Underworld itself. With a rip of his arm, he lifted the officer by the right leg, flailing about in mid-air like an insect dangled from a kid's fingers, and tossed him with the force of a freight train through the living room window of a nearby house. The body tore through the glass, shattering it into razor-sharp shards, before it disappeared into the darkness of the room beyond.

Cadmus smiled agreeably to himself, imagining the impact of the man on the objects within the room, the splintering of the bones, the misplacement of the joints, the unfathomable pain…

Sirens exploded in the night with loud wailing shrieks, like dying Tusken Raiders. The noise pierced Cadmus' hypersensitive ears, and he grit his sharpened teeth in response. The primitiveness of the sounds (no doubt belonging to the transportation of the reinforcements of the lawman) irked him; they were rudimentary waves of unrefined noise, compressed and mangled, most likely meant to strike fear into the very souls of criminals. However, they only served to vex the seething well of fury rising within him like the surfacing magma of Krakatoa.

The variable that was the female dangling over his shoulder struck his consciousness like a hammer lightly tapping at a nail. He took a moment to admire the way her soft, shapely body felt against the chiseled stone of his exterior and then caressed the underside of her leg without emotion, analyzing the fabric of her velvety skin. She would make a fine Handmaiden, he thought, with her unrestrained temper and fiery spirit. Yes, Tonks would serve him well in the domination of this weak planet, though (very short) time spent molding her will to his own would be required.

She would be a hindrance to him in the forthcoming combat, however. Keen orange eyes darting about like arrows, he searched for an adequate spot to store her comatose bulk. The only place that wasn't an inhabited home was a small, primeval vehicle, decorated on its side with a small metal nameplate that read, "Volvo". Attempting to figure out how the child's toy functioned, he pulled on the door handle. The entrance failed to budge. Exhaling forcefully, he wielded the Force and entered the lock with invisible fingers. He deftly unlocked the mechanism with a flick and tore the door off its hinges. Tossing it like a Frisbee over his shoulder, he removed Tonks from his shoulders and stuffed her in the vehicle. To ensure that she would not awaken from her state, he placed her into an indefinite coma with a simple movement of the Force.

Tires screeched behind him, and a male voice erupted, static-like and mechanically-loudened,

"HALT WHERE YOU ARE. DON'T MAKE A MOVE, SCUMBAG. CEASE AND DESIST."

Cadmus chuckled. The self-aggrandizing, false conviction in his voice, as if the man thought he had any real power, was of the utmost hilarity. Turning around leisurely, Cadmus put his hands above his head, a gesture that was protocol in the arrest of felons in most primitive societies.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES, SLOWLY," continued the voice, which emanated from the inner recesses of a vehicle that was similar to the one which currently held Tonks. This one, however, was sleeker and black, no doubt a symbol of authority. There were four of the transportation devices, forming an utterly defenseless line. They probably assumed they were caging him in; that they had captured a Lord of the Sith. Fools, thought Cadmus gleefully.

Like two falling anvils, Cadmus brought his hands down with incredible speed, palms opened downward. Instantaneously, reactively, the two patrol vehicles in the center of the line were flattened like cardboard boxes, crushed into metal and upholstery pancakes, the blood of the humans inside leaking out like crimson syrup.

The doors of the other two cars flew open and humanoid creatures emerged thereof, clad in suits of black armor and carrying basic assault weapons. They shouted profanities with panicked, strained voices and in retaliation opened fire on Cadmus.

Cadmus' perception slowed in a millisecond to a lazy crawl, and he observed as metal projectiles were emitted from their firearms in spiraling motions. They flew, uninhibited by the gravitational forces of the plant, toward him, their menacing tips glowing with friction in the night.

He let the spear-headed objects travel towards him a few feet, before he conjured a net with the Force. Allowing his acuity to return to normal speed, he watched as the bullets disintegrated into a fine powder upon impact with the shield. The officers, puzzled but not enlightened, continued to shoot until all of their clips were empty.

Cadmus laughed, his coarse bark grating upon the eardrums of the officers.

"Feel the wrath of the Sith, degenerates."

His irises burning bright blue, Cadmus unleashed the power constrained within him, converting it into pure electricity, which flowed from his fingertips in individual bolts like waterfalls. The energy struck the officers and all around them, their hearts instantly short-circuited by the volatile power of the electricity. Losing control of their limbs, they plummeted to the earth, their weapons scattering uselessly across the pavement. Twelve dead collectively in two minutes.

Cadmus used the Force to arrange the cars into a makeshift roadblock and returned to the "Volvo" to retrieve Tonks. He found her just as he left her, unconscious and laying haphazardly across the front seat of the vehicle. Pulling her out by the foot, he placed her back upon his shoulder like a listless potato sack. Cadmus took one last look at the corpses of the lawmen, smiled at his handiwork, and took off down the street with a gait faster than that of an impala.

oOoOoOo

July 15, 1996, Day One of Cadmus' Return, 8:00 P.M.-12 Grimmauld Place, London

Albus Dumbledore stared gravely into the harsh, obsidian eyes of Severus Snape.

"Severus, I am afraid we are about to be at war with something much more powerful than Voldemort. Or Harry. Or any of us."

He swallowed, his aged Adam's apple rising and falling like a guillotine.

"But, it is of utmost importance that we protect the posterity of this generation. The children of Hogwarts must not be harmed at all costs."

Severus' thin upper lip curled downward.

"And Potter? What of him? You know him, Albus. He will do anything in his power to try and fight this madman on his own."

The elderly wizard's eyes twinkled a moment, almost in admiration, before he sighed.

"I know, Severus. I am aware of Harry's brave foolhardiness. That is why I am ordering that the castle be put on strict lockdown. Security must be amplified to wartime measures and identification must be required for everything that comes in and goes out of the castle."

Snape nodded, before his silky voice suddenly became uncharacteristically alarmed.

"But what of Potter currently? How will we control him outside the walls of Hogwarts?"

Albus thought a moment. After several seconds of deliberation, he enunciated slowly a death sentence to any teenage boy in the summertime:

"We must put him under stern detention. As much as I do not like this, he will not be allowed to leave this house. And you, Severus, will watch him."

Snape thought he might have a coronary.

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Chaper Eight Selected Review Responses:

_bittatatat: _Thank you very much for your review and all your suggestions! I am considering building a harem for Cadmus, and your ideas are helping me put that together. I'd love to hear more of your proposals in reviews to come.

_Arthas: _No, they have not. Cadmus unfortunately picked a bad time to go waltzing down Cadogan Street and bumped into an officer. This caused the ensuing battle. Thanks for your review!


	10. Chapter 10: Safehouse Search

Fated Origins: Chapter 10: Safehouse Search

**A/N: **Hello, readers! Thanks for sticking with me and this story. First things first, I don't mean to be a nit-picky, bitchy beggar, but I've noticed that, despite the fact that I'll get 100+ visitors to my story, I'll only get one or two reviews. I know some of you are just checking the story out, and may not even read past the first chapter, but every review helps and contributes to how quickly I update. So, please, leave a quick review if you can. With that being said, enjoy this update!

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"_None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free." ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

_"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword." ~ Jesus, the Christ_

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30 BBY-Chancellor Palpatine's Cruiser

"_His origins are unknown to me, Mas. They are shrouded in the deepest cloak of darkness. However, I foresee much greatness in him. He shall be vastly powerful, perhaps, more powerful than I…"_

_Cadmus quickly moved his head back from its extended position into the hall. Was he sure of what he had just heard? Had Master really just made admission to the fact that he was supremely powerful? Or had he imagined it? Cadmus moved closer to the edge of the door and focused hard on the sounds emanating from the room which held his Master and the Speaker of the Senate, Mas Amedda. _

"_But how can you be so positive on the matter, Chancellor? How do you know that he will amount to everything that you propose?" queried Amedda._

_Palpatine smiled, not a warm, benign grin, but a conceited, wicked smirk._

"_Why, he is under my training and supervision, isn't he, Mas? He is receiving the best of the best. I could transform even the clumsiest Mandalorian into a deadly machine of Sith power."_

_Amedda made no immediate reply, possibly because there was no appropriate one to such blatant arrogance. Palpatine continued, the scratchy timbre of his voice filling with anticipation._

"_I have great plans for this boy. With the proper measures, I will forge the most lethal warrior the Universe has ever been witness to."_

_Cadmus recoiled as if the very words stung him. He, the most lethal Sith? But there were so many greats before him. So many legacies that triumphed his own. Plagueis. Tenebrous. Bane. The list was indefinite._

_Trembling, Cadmus crept from his eavesdropper's position back to his quarters. He crawled beneath the sheets, shaking with excitement and wonderment. Even the texture of the linen against his skin didn't truly feel real. Was he truly to be the paramount of them all? Was he to be the Angel of Death?_

_As he drifted slowly into sleep that night, images of glory and magnificence danced across the landscape of his mind, painting an eternal portrait of the warrior that would revisit his dreams for years and years to come._

oOoOoOo

Unknown Date-Day Two of Cadmus' Return-Streets of Greater London

Cadmus barreled down streets and alleys, through parks and courtyards, and across byways and paths, all with the weight of the inactive form of Nymphadora Tonks upon his shoulders. He ran with unmatched speed, his powerful legs pounding the earth and propelling him forward like a dashing cheetah. His Force-fueled sprint didn't tax his energy in the least; he felt as cool and refreshed as he would while reclining on a sofa. The wind whipped about him, dividing as it impacted with his torpedo-like body like toilet paper cut by scissors.

Buildings and houses dissolved in his peripheral vision quicker than he could count the windows, and they grew sparser as he continued his cross-city run. Eventually, he found himself galloping along a bucolic road that ran beside rolling pastures of emerald green. He had made his way into the countryside without any engagement from the local buffoons of the law. Luck, perhaps, but a more plausible explanation might be that they were unequipped to match his speed or track his movements.

Cadmus continued on, feet impacting the gravel road and creating small divots that would appear to anyone as left by some fauna of the planet. With each mile, fenced sections of grass containing strange creatures, some quadruped and some bipedal, passed before the Sith's eyes, and he gathered that this was an agricultural region. Rural areas were mainly unpopulated, as the space required for the crops occupied room for sentient inhabitants, and this was just to Cadmus' liking. From this place he could construct a small compound, establish a small force of trained loyalists, and use this platform as a springboard to thrust his dominance upon the planet. It would be his first stepping stone to a full-fledged empire, as well as providing a base by which he could attempt to return to his world.

Miles dragged on and melted into the sunset, and he soon found himself in a near completely uninhabited region. Halting by a small, wooden post, he attempted to gather the identity of his whereabouts. The only structure for miles, it seemed, was a small, decrepit cottage that sat at the base of a hill beyond the road. Not enthused about the idea of traveling through this planet's night (which he gathered revolved around a massive, bright star), he decided to utilize the ubiquity of the cottage to his advantage.

Approaching the derelict edifice, Cadmus immediately gathered that it was, and had been for some time, vacant. The plants that had grown up around the walls betrayed the order and neatness of humans, and the sheer condition of the house was beyond abandoned. Cadmus walked up the rickety front steps, cursing their filthiness, and proceeded to open the door.

The rotting wood moved with a whine and a creak, and Cadmus jumped instinctively to the right as a small, furry object darted from the now-ajar doorway. The small beast, mottled white and black, scurried across the lawn and in the direction of a small wood to the right. The Sith Lord scowled at the thing, condemning its fellows to death if any more remain inside.

Cadmus warily placed a foot inside, scanning the room with a quick Force-fed environment sweep. He found nothing, except a few pieces of dilapidated furniture. Darkness swallowed the room in totality; Cadmus was coerced to look through eyes of the Force to see into the thick shade.

In the center of the room sat a large, mahogany table, upon which stood several candles, columns of unlit wax that jutted up into the gloom like the spires of Korriban. On its left side was a polyester reclining device, ratty and worn from years of neglect. The walls were covered in a thin paper that was peeling in random spots and stained in others. The Dark Lord sneered at the place; its utter repulsiveness displeased him greatly. Unfortunately, it would have to suffice.

Cadmus laid Tonks upon the putrid recliner and stood a moment above her, scrutinizing her attractive figure. He took in her high cheekbones and pouty lips, characteristic of the best of courtesans. Her curvaceous build was alluring, to say the least. Even more intriguing about her was her ability to manipulate her bodily structure at will, and Cadmus' mind sifted through hundreds of resourceful possibilities her gift could provide. His Handmaiden was shaping up rather nicely.

Deciding to allow her to rest a bit more, Cadmus kneeled on the ragged carpet on the floor and let the lids of his eyes descend slowly like curtains. Inhaling deeply, then releasing, he languidly entered into meditation, unaware of the mounting fear of the Wizarding World.

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Chapter Nine Selected Review Responses:

_FLaTone: _Are you a prophet? Because that was frighteningly good prediction right there. Voldemort's reaction may or may not be arriving next chapter, so stay tuned.

_Kaelia Ayame: _Despite your incredibly poor grammar and spelling, I was able to decipher your review. All I can say is that the Harem may or may not contain Hogwarts females, such as Hermione or Ginny, if there even is one at all. Just wait and see.


	11. Chapter 11: The Call to Arms

Fated Origins: Chapter 11: The Call to Arms

**A/N: **Read and review! Enjoy the update.

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"_The infantrymen wake_

_With the call to arms ringing like a cymbal's crash in their valiant ears_

_And foolhardy hearts. _

'_Come, take up your arms!'_

_The overlords cry. _

_But they are only to march into the jaws of Death,_

_Only to take up arms against themselves."_

_~Sebastian Leadwing, IV_

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July 17, 1996, Day Three of Cadmus' Return, 3:00 A.M.-Lestrange Residence

The clock on the wall, decorated with intricate symbols and covered in a veneer of gold, ticked maddeningly in the silence of the room. A woman sat at a long dining room table, head bowed, her black and white, corkscrew hair draped over her face like a veil. She sat like a Victorian doll, unmoving and without sound. Across from her, a man was positioned in a similar way; head arched, long, silver hair shielding his face. Between them, at the head of the table, a snakelike creature stood, arms lifted in ceremonial pose, its head tilted back as if he were being anointed with oil.

Words escaped the creature's pencil-thin lips; strange, choked sounds, guttural and unnatural. It was an incantation of some sort, an ancient phrase used for some magical purpose. The serpent-like being paused a moment, drawing of the room's air with slit-like nostrils, then opened his mouth to begin again-

"My Lord!"

With an ear-shattering bang, the door of the room flew open, revealing a small, rat-like man with a crazed look about him. His eyes were moon-wide with fear, and he trembled like an earthquake was hitting the area.

"My Lord," the rat-man squeaked again. "I have news for you!"

With a hiss, the snakelike creature dropped his arms, and his two companions jolted like they had been awoken from slumber. The long-haired man gripped his head in response, furiously rubbing his temples, and muttered, "Damn Wormtail." Dazedly, the woman looked about, blinking like a drunk.

"I hope you bring report worthy of interrupting my meditation, Wormtail," growled the snakelike man, his silky voice dripping with warning.

Wormtail swallowed heavily, as if there were a steel ball in his esophagus. His hands fidgeting wildly, he closed his eyes and released the news:

"My Lord, what I have to tell you is grave. I have received word from a Ministry informant of ours that something drastic has occurred."

He paused, the weight of what was to come perhaps closing his mouth for him. He managed, however, to reopen it and finish the thought.

"My Lord, your half-brother, Aristarchus…He has returned."

The silence that followed this statement was so great that if a pin were to be dropped in the room it would sound similar to the explosion of one-hundred missiles. No one stirred; a cemetery seemed like a party thrown by Gatsby in comparison.

With low, hissing cackles, the snakelike man began to laugh hysterically, as if Wormtail had just cracked him an amusing joke by Carlin. He guffawed in this manner for several seconds, throwing his head back in sheer merriment. His laugher gradually died away, and he wheezily inquired:

"So, have you come to merely entertain me with a joke, Wormtail?"

Wormtail stood as still as a mountain, eyes almost comically wide and face paler than a seagull's feathers. Deliberately, like a falling bridge, the grin disappeared from the snakelike man's face. His companion's gaped at one another, puzzled and terrified equally.

Quicker than a flash of lightning, Wormtail was off his feet, dangling a foot off the carpeted ground, his neck protruding. His face quickly turned purple, and beads of sweat burst forth from his pores like individual waterfalls. He clawed at his throat with his small, rodent-like fingers in attempt to free himself from the grasp of his Master.

The snakelike man's voice was eerily calm as he spoke.

"What did you say about my half-brother?"

Through a constricted windpipe, the suffocating servant squeaked out,

"He has returned."

In that moment, it seemed as if Hell had opened up beneath the room and Lucifer himself had stepped forth into the world of mortals. The snakelike man released a shriek so intensely horrifying it caused his companions to fall to the floor, clutching their ears in pain. His eyes burned an inhuman, savage crimson, like pools of molten fire. With a sweep, he flung his messenger across the room like a toy, and his small body collided with the wall with a dull thud.

The table before the snake burst into flame, and the chairs alongside it flew in all directions of the room. The rage of the man was almost tangible, like a sweltering aura of condensed heat, and the small dining area pulsed with it. The walls cracked down the middle, and the chandelier shattered upon the floor with a bang.

With a flick of the snake-like man's wand, the rat-man appeared before him once more, blubbering and quivering like a leaf in the fetal position.

"How did he return?! Where is he?!" he screamed, his voice matching the decibels of a jet engine.

Whimpering like an injured dog, Wormtail stifled his sobs and answered his Master,

"My Lord, I do not know the details of the situation! No one knows how he managed to come back! Nor is anyone aware of his whereabouts! Please, my Lord! Spare me!"

This served only to further enrage his master. The snake-man stomped his foot upon the ground, and instantly the ceiling above their heads was obliterated, revealing a tranquil night sky. As if he were swinging the sword of vengeance, he thrust his wand into the air. A beam of green light erupted from the end of the stick, shooting upwards into the sky and exploding in a fireball of jade in the clouds. A skull of emerald mist appeared where the spell had detonated with a snake curling out of its open mouth.

The serpent-man then touched two elegantly long fingers to a tattoo upon his wrist, which was the same symbol as the signal in the sky. Instantaneously, his silken voice surged into the skulls of his followers all throughout the country.

"_My loyal supporters," _he began. "_I have received word of a threat greater than that foolish boy, Potter! He is a danger to our cause and a thorn in the side of our quest! Assemble; return to your Master! Amass your weapons and bring your valiant spirits! War is upon us! This is the call to arms!"_

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July 17, 1996, Day Three of Cadmus' Return, 3:00 A.M.-the Ministry of Magic

"Minister! This is no trifle! This might mean war that consumes the entirety of the Wizarding World!"

"Albus, Albus. I do not discredit you or your claims. But how can I be assured this man isn't just some petty criminal who got lucky against a few Aurors and an ill-equipped Muggle police unit? How can we be assured of his origins? For all we know, this whole 'Voldemort's half-brother' situation could be a myth."

The wizened man's expression twisted with aggravation.

"He has kidnapped an Auror, Cornelius! Nymphadora Tonks is currently missing and is assumed abducted by this man! He is most definitely a threat! Do not disregard this, Minister!"

The squat man with an amiable face jumped from his armchair with a huff, pointing a finger in the taller wizard's face.

"You cannot and will not tell me how to perform my job, Albus! If I decide that this man does not pose danger to national security, then he does not! And you will accept that!"

The aged man's eyes narrowed.

"Do as you please, Cornelius. But when this man brings this world to its knees, it will be remembered that you did nothing to stop it."

Cornelius growled.

"This visit is over, Albus! Have a good night, and do not bother me with this again!"

Albus turned with an incensed flourish and tossed a fine green powder into the fireplace before him.

Before calling out his destination and disappearing, he looked over his shoulder at the Minister of Magic.

"You will receive no mercy, Cornelius. None of us will. It is up to you now to give us a chance against this man. Think hard and with wisdom, for you might not get to deliberate on another matter as Minister again after a few days' time."

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Chapter 10 Selected Review Responses:

_bittatatat: _Thank you again for your suggestions! Adding those females to the Harem are all possibilities, especially the mother-daughter concept. That will come in handy when the enslavement rolls around.


	12. Chapter 12: The Spirit Must Break

Fated Origins: Chapter 12: The Spirit Must Break

**A/N: **PLEASE REVIEW. I beseech thee. Your feedback to me is like heroin to Kurt Cobain. So, hey. It gives me incentive to update.

**A/N II: **_THIS HAS BEEN REWRITTEN. THIS IS THE REWRITTEN VERSION._

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"_There is no such thing as liberty. You only change one sort of domination for another. All we can do is to choose our master." ~David Herbert Lawrence_

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Day Three of Cadmus' Return-Shack in the English Countryside

Light filtered in through the dirty panes of the windows; the grime upon the glass marred the pattern of the luminosity, making its imprint mottled upon the carpet. Sounds were absent; the only noises to be heard were far off in the distance, except for the occasional chirp of an early bird.

Nymphadora Tonks stirred, the black grip of unconsciousness slipping from her mind. She gradually opened her chocolate eyes like a waking cat and stretched her aching body, arching her back and throwing up her arms to relieve the tension. She was on a ratty couch in some unknown place, and that prospect frightened her to the very core of her soul.

The last thing she could remember was being blown backwards by Riddle, and the feeling of absolute weightlessness as she tumbled through the air into her kitchen. From that point onwards, her mind drew up a blank slate. The feeling was akin to the mental blankness of a morning subsequent a night of excess alcohol. Now, all that she was aware of was that her head ached, her body felt drained, and she was in some strange raggedy-ass hut.

Great.

Sitting up, she turned to get a view of the entire area.

She screeched when she looked to her left.

Him.

Cadmus stood like a tower in the center of the room, ripped arms crossed in a nonchalant manner and grinning like a feral hyena.

"Why, hello there, Nymphadora," he said, silky voice mocking.

Tonks' mind raced like a whirling conveyor belt. Riddle was here? That meant that the Aurors had failed to bring him down. She paled at the thought. If they had held no chance against him, that left her in a very poor place.

She immediately leapt to her feet, reaching instinctively for her wand. A brief look of shock passed over her features as her hand grasped nothingness. Of course the bastard would have taken it.

With a burst of speed to rival that of a trained Olympian, she attempted to make a mad dash past Cadmus for the door. The Sith Lord reached back casually and grabbed a handful of her robes as she flew past him. With a quick jerk, he flung her backwards. Mercifully, she landed like with the deftness of a log on the seats of the sofa.

"Now," he drawled indifferently. "We can do this one of two ways. The simple way, in which you sit quietly and surrender to me, or the difficult way, in which I have to tear your mind apart at the very seams and render you a mindless, simpering blob within ten minutes time."

Tonks put on an insincerely valiant face and set her jaw like a prizefighter. Like hell he was going to dominate her.

"You'll have to give more than your best to break me."

Cadmus chuckled maniacally.

"Oh, how I adore a challenge," he jeered, orange eyes alight with malice.

The Sith Lord walked forward slowly, judging his prey, searching her for areas of weakness. He halted directly in front of her, towering like a titan. She stared up at him, eyes like steel. Cadmus drew back his arm like a baseball bat and released, letting his open hand fly forward and land with a resounding smack on the right cheek of Tonks.

The force of the blow jarred her perceptions, and her head reflexively snapped to the left with a yelp. Tears instinctively jumped to her eyes, and she jumped up in a huff. She would not just accept abuse like some submissive animal. Pulling her arm back, she threw a right hook aimed at his face with all her might.

In a split second, Cadmus caught her fist before it made a half a foot from his face. He twisted it in a flash, and she screamed in pain as he bent her arm within an inch of removing it from the joint. Holding it there, he leaned in close to the side of her face and whispered:

"Do you enjoy the pain, Nymphadora? Because this is just a taste of the agony I have the power of inflicting upon you. I am giving you a choice: submit to your Master, or accept the consequences."

Tonks didn't reply. Instead, in an act of foolhardy defiance, she spat at him, and the offending spittle landed directly upon Cadmus' right foot.

He grinned like a sociopath.

"Such insolence will get you nowhere."

With a final rotation, he popped her arm from the socket. Tonks shouted in sheer anguish, her body convulsing with the pain shooting through her upper body. Cadmus reached down and grabbed a hold of her slim neck, pinching the closed the trachea with the Force. He held her down, constricting her of oxygen. Her face quickly turned blue. Tonks felt her head grow lighter than a balloon, and the curtain of darkness begin to descend on her cognizance...

With a frightening expertise, he brought her within a second of unconsciousness before releasing the clamp around her throat. She gulped at the oxygen, pulling as much as possible into her deprived lungs.

"Submit!" he commanded, before launching into her mind with the Force like a cannonball.

He tore at the nerves of her brain with the psychic machete of his power, ripping at her cranium. He twisted and stabbed her nervous centers, jabbing at them with jagged, telekinetic needles. She shrieked in response, her uninjured hand zooming up to grip her head as if it were hit with a baseball. Waterfall-like tears poured from her ducts, and she flailed her legs like a dying insect. She had experienced this pain the last time she had defied him, and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. No device of man could create such agony as this.

"Stop! Please, stop this!" she pleaded through sobs that wrenched her entire being.

Cadmus let up a moment, giving her the illusion that the torture was over. Tonks moaned in response, the sledgehammer of pain halting its pounding rhythm in her head. She uncontrollably reached up to touch her liberator with gratitude, but he slapped it away and resumed his role as torturer. Abruptly attacking again, he poured the essence of discouragement into her head, trying to fill it with disheartenment. Her mind somehow resisted, holding onto her frail belief system for support.

She screamed until her vocal chords threatened to give out, clutching her own skin with her nails so deeply that she bled. The Dark Lord of the Sith continued this streamline of torment, suspending the assaults momentarily before driving back into the recesses of her mind like a freight train.

Eventually, Tonks was unable to scream any longer, and her body shuddered with violent paroxysms. The distress had washed out her senses and left her a vegetative sack of flesh. Her mind had been worn to the base, and her thoughts scrambled and fizzed inside her head. She passed in and out of consciousness, the immense pain shutting down her bodily functions briefly until Cadmus revived them. Realizing he had her in the perfect position, he discontinued the suffering, stepping back and allowing her to recover.

She gasped for air like a shored trout, quivering pitifully in the fetal position. Cadmus squatted, putting himself at a level position with her. He radiated a force of dominance.

"Are you ready to accept who you must become? Or shall this continue?" he inquired softly, voice deceptively gentle.

She looked at him, body twitching, and managed to shake her head decisively, like a noble martyr. Cadmus suspected it wasn't even her cognitively performing the action; simply her ingrained credo holding on to her near broken psyche.

Cadmus sighed.

"So it must be."

Without mercy, he entered her weakened mind with ease, resuming the cruel twisting of her nerves. Taking advantage of her drained animus, he implanted thoughts and paradigms into her brain through the Force, trying to convert her. It was the ancient art of Sith mind conversion; a technique used to break extremely persistent slaves into total subjugation. Her mind resisted, throwing up its acutely-rooted conceptions of goodness and light in effort to stave off the implantation of these alien ideas. Cadmus focused, breaking them down at their base, dismantling her ideologies with Sith precepts and knowledge. He retrained the synapses of her brain, arranging them in an order to his liking. Her mind fought courageously against this Dark transformation, and one exceptionally bothersome safeguard it repeatedly fell back on was the figure of "Harry Potter", who was a savior persona to her. Cadmus was intrigued with this knowledge but stored it for later review.

Tonks' consciousness blurred and melted away. She no longer felt the cognition of existence; she was simply a tightly-bound mirage of colors infinitely progressing through a vast void of darkness. No path was set before her, and she could see no end in sight. Her senses and memory had eroded away, leaving her like an overridden computer, blank and without primal function. Her mind was a swirling, convulsing heap of garbled knowledge, sensible and unintelligible simultaneously. Thoughts were born only to be smothered and strangulated by information that was somehow streamlining into her soul. It felt both correct and wrong, but she wasn't quite sure why either way.

Suddenly, a light broke through the shadow like a glorious ray of sunlight. She felt herself being pulled towards the opening in the thick blackness, culled from the emptiness by some unimaginable force. With an audible pop, she was absorbed into the stream of effervescence.

Like a Tinker Toy set, Cadmus restructured her mind from within, burying her old personality beneath a mountain of Sith dogmas. It was a classical forced Sith indoctrination, which fully altered a person's character by trapping it beneath a manufactured one, and depending on how well the desired nature is developed, can permanently transfigure a person. Cadmus applied the finishing touches as her former identity lashed out in a final attempt at freedom and was crushed emphatically.

Tonks was effectively gone, sepulchered beneath the chains of the Sith conversion. Her brain had been reprogrammed, her synapses and thoughts rearranged into a system prevaricated upon a false and mindless sense of obedience. Essentially, everything that encompassed Tonks had been stored away in a lock box in the depths of her mind, and a new version of her personality had been instilled in its place. There was, however, a chance of her past self resurfacing at times, and those occurrences would have to be strictly controlled. But, for now, up from the ashes of Nymphadora Tonks rose the Dark Handmaiden, loyal servant of Darth Cadmus.

His servant slumped limply in the sofa amongst her shed blood and tears, the entire ordeal bringing her to the very brink of destruction. Cadmus, sensing how near to death she was, gently grasped the back of her neck, flooding her body with the aura of the Force. Sith did not have the power to directly heal like the Jedi, and consequently Cadmus could only numb the pain searing her mind and body. Her eyes fluttered open in response; breathing heavily, she grabbed a hold of her deliverer's arms and whispered statements of gratitude to him.

"I am yours, Master," she whispered, eyes morphing into a vibrant shade of pink.

The Dark Lord of the Sith quickly scanned her mind for traces of deception. To his great pleasure, he found none. The new personality was functioning perfectly. He had successfully entombed Tonks beneath his Handmaiden.

"Rise, Handmaiden," he commanded, relishing in the power. "You belong to me, now. There is no Nymphadora Tonks; only my Handmaiden. Your flesh and body are solely my property."

"Of course, Master," she conceded humbly, her mouth mechanically spitting out the title. She was not capable of defiance any longer; she simply had no desire for it. In fact, Tonks could not remember ever hating this beast of a man before her, or anything else. She only knew that she was his servant; instinctual devotion welled up within her.

Taking a bit of his Life Force, he channeled it into her body, allowing it to rebuild her damaged nervous epicenters and repair the damage he had wreaked. With a quick shove, he pushed her arm back into its socket, drawing a cry from her.

"I am gentle with my servants," her Master said. "I take very good care of all who declare their allegiance to me."

"Master, I am confused", said Tonks, her eyebrows furrowed. "I feel as if I was once supposed to hate you, yet, inexplicably, I am drawn to you. Something within me urges me to fight you, but I know that cannot be right."

"Crush those thoughts, Handmaiden," ordered Cadmus. "They are lies implanted in you by the fools of this planet. They wish to control you like some wild animal. But I am here to protect you, my Handmaiden. I only offer you the best."

She stared at him for a moment, conflicting emotions flashing across her eyes. However, the Darkness now within her reigned supremely, and she bowed.

"I live to serve you, my Lord," she assented.

He smiled proudly.

"Come then, my Handmaiden. I shall teach you the ways of the Sith."

oOoOoOo

July 18th, 1996-Day Three of Cadmus' Return-Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster's Office

"What shall be done, Albus?"

"How will we protect ourselves?"

"I heard the ruddy bastard is so strong, he demolished Nymphadora Tonks' flat with the power in his pinky!"

"We are doomed! Doomed!"

Dumbledore had endured quite enough.

"SILENCE!" he cried, and the room immediately ceased to produce noise at his command. The teachers of Hogwarts, gathered in his office, turned collectively to look at their Headmaster, who was sitting at his desk.

He looked over each of his faculty members with a solemn eye.

"My friends, it is time to prepare for the inevitable: a war."

Madame Pomfrey gasped. Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic nod, before continuing.

"We must arm the school. This place must remain a bastion of hope in spite of the great danger we face," he said, blue eyes aflame with passion. "We cannot allow our spirits to be dampened. But to remain safe, we need to take precautions against this man."

"But how, Albus? How can we possibly defend ourselves against him?" Flitwick interjected with a squeak.

"With training, Filius!" Albus answered. "We need to collect our most capable students and begin training them for war! It is the only way we shall stand a chance."

"Trainin'?" cried Rubeus Hagrid. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, we can't train these children fer war! They're just tha': children!"

This time it was McGonagall to respond.

"They will be able to handle it, Rubeus. It was going to happen anyway: You-Know-Who is on the rise and a war with him is unavoidable. We need these children to be ready to fight."

Hagrid immediately fell silent at the implications of her statement.

"Perhaps we might even be left by the wayside," suggested Dumbledore. "Riddle may just be here to be vindicated. Voldemort might be his target. Nonetheless, preparations must be completed. Harry, as well as all other worthy students, must be gathered here at Hogwarts. Inform their parents or guardians, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded and left the room to prepare the owls.

Dumbledore looked gravely over each and every one of them.

"He is coming with great power. But, we can overcome him if we have courage and perseverance," the old wizard said.

And in their hearts everyone in the room held a spiraling doubt that it would be so.

Chapter Eleven Selected Review Responses:

_Goldrune09: _Thank you! I enjoyed writing the maniacal Voldemort scene. He's just so awesome in his moments of power. Yeah, I was thinking of having it be like a nuclear blast, but I didn't think that would be believable.

_Sierra166048: _Thanks! I usually dislike all of those stories, because the large majority of them are so poorly written. I'm glad you're enjoying the story!


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